


Unsteady Precipice

by BrightSilverKitty (PersephoneSleeps)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Romance, St. Mungos, Time Travel AU, daemon AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2020-06-09 15:13:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19478515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PersephoneSleeps/pseuds/BrightSilverKitty
Summary: When Hermione is killed during the final battle she is spit out into an alternate universe. Though she has nothing, Hermione is determined to prevent the future from happening the same way. Can she do it? And how will a certain pureblooded witch's obsession factor in? AU with time travel and daemons.





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: The Split

In the last moments of Hermione's life her thoughts were filled with Harry's crumpled form. She stood on the front lawn of Hogwarts, and every muscle in her body screamed as she flung curse after curse at the black-cloaked death eaters. Ginny fought at her side, and it was Ginny's gasp that made Hermione register the green jet of light that slipped through her shield charm.

The last thing she saw was McGonagall's horrified face-

Then blackness.

Hermione was hurtling through the dark at an impossible speed. She tried to suck in a breath so that she could scream, but it felt like a plastic bag was pressed over her nose and mouth. There was a terrible ripping sensation, like she was being torn in half.

This time when Hermione sucked in a breath the air came in. It stung, and Hermione felt solid ground beneath her. Then there was a blinding light, and a brush of fur against her arm.

A chair scraped back, and a blurry figure crouched in front of her. Noise came, but it was garbled and Hermione could not make out the words.

Her vision clouded, and the darkness pulled her under again. This time, she lost all awareness.

XX

When she woke, the first thing she noticed was that she was in a tidy whitewashed room with a large, airy window and a rag rug on the grey floorboards.

A soft cry came from beside her, and she turned her head and gasped.

Nestled between her arm and her stomach was a fox. That alone would have surprised her, but the reason she gasped was because in looking at him she had the queer sensation that she was looking at _herself_. His large yellow eyes peered back at her with such worried intensity that she reached out, and without thinking brushed her fingers over his soft ear.

A wonderful feeling spread over her, as if she were being hugged by her own mother. He, too, seemed comforted by the action. He dropped his chin onto her chest, and his gaze softened.

"Who are you?" She croaked. Her throat felt raspy and unused.

He cocked his head slightly, then said, "I-I don't know. A moment ago I was Hermione Granger. I still am- I think. Only I'm not. Not anymore." His eyes grew sad, and he laid his ears back against his head and whined.

Hermione was too struck to find it strange that he spoke. "You're part of me, at least," she said surely. She knew it as certain as she knew that her hands belonged to her. She felt dazed.

He seemed comforted by her words, and leaned his head against her hand. "Where are we?" He asked, looking around. "Is this- is this heaven?"

Hermione trembled. In the same way she knew the fox was a part of her, she also knew that she was _alive._ "I don't think so," she whispered. She could smell baked bread, and the room was too cold to be celestial.

At that moment the door eased open, and an older woman walked in. An ermine sat on her shoulder, and it cocked it's head at them as the woman approached.

"Hello, dear," she said in a deep voice. "Feeling better?"

Hermione trusted her at once. The woman's blue eyes seemed so familiar. She had a heart shaped face, and aristocratic nose, and short grey hair that curled gently over her ears. It took Hermione a moment to find her voice. "Where am I?"

"Yorkshire," the woman said gently. "Do you know how you got here?"

Wordlessly, Hermione shook her head. To her horror, tears began to leak down her cheeks. "I was at Hogwarts," she began uncertainly. There was no way to tell if this woman was on her side or Voldemort's. "I was hit by a curse…"

"Oh, you poor dear!" The woman sat on a chair next to the bed, and leaned close. "Did one of your classmates play a prank on you?"

So the woman didn't know what had happened at Hogwarts. Hermione didn't know if that was good or bad.

"Well, I'm Mrs. Weasley," the woman said, not registering the shock on Hermione and the fox's face. "You're safe in my home, I assure you." She shifted into a more comfortable position, "Perhaps I should floo your parents?"

This proved to be too much for Hermione. To her horror, she burst into tears, and the fox, _her fox_ , let out another plaintive whine. The woman, Mrs. Weasley, looked alarmed for a moment, and then put a comforting hand on Hermione's shoulder.

"There, there, dearie," she said. The ermine pulled a handkerchief from the woman's pocket and put it into Mrs. Weasley's hand. The woman then pressed it to Hermione's cheeks, dabbing gently. "I'm sure we can get you back home soon. The term is nearly over, and exams have finished."

The fox pressed even closer to Hermione, and keened. Hermione shook her head. "My parents are gone! Hogwarts is gone!" Her voice warbled as she cried fresh tears. " _I'm gone_. I d-died in the war!

To her credit, Mrs. Weasley did not stop her comfort.

"A-and I've been split in two!" Hermione cried.

Mrs. Weasley ran her hand soothingly over Hermione's back. The ermine dropped onto the bed to peer intently at Hermione's fox. "What do you mean, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked in a worried tone. "I didn't see any injuries-"

"She means me," the fox said miserably. "I'm not supposed to be here."

The woman jumped a little bit, and the ermine let out a gasp.

Carefully, addressing Hermione, Mrs. Weasley said, "That's your daemon, dear. He's always been there, from the moment you were born."

"No," Hermione shook her head fiercely. Her throat felt tight, her lungs were on fire. "He wasn't there yesterday. Or even this morning. And then I-" She gasped a sob, "H-Harry died! And then I died too, and-and somehow I woke up here, split in two!"

The fox nodded glumly, and wrapped his front legs around Hermione's arm. "It's true."

The ermine climbed back onto Mrs. Weasley's shoulder, and whispered something into her ear. The older woman nodded.

"I think we'll need to call in someone who can help better than I can, dear," she said gently. "Will you let me?"

Overwhelmed, Hermione nodded. Her breath came faster, and she let out wet sobs with every exhale.

Mrs. Weasley ran her hand over Hermione's hair, and pressed the handkerchief into Hermione's hand. "You sit right there, and I'll be back in two ticks."

There was a flutter of fabric, then Hermione and the fox were alone.

"She didn't know about Hogwarts," the fox whispered. His voice was frenzied. He was pressed firmly against Hermione's chest, as if trying to sink back into her. "She didn't know."

"I wonder how much time has passed," Hermione said. She struggled to speak through her tears. "She said she was Mrs. Weasley."

"There might be other Mrs. Weasleys," the fox said. "Or she might be a future Mrs. Weasley. Ron had five brothers, one of them is bound to have married."

Hermione eyed the open door, and dropped her voice to the lowest whisper. "We still don't know how the war turned out," she pointed out. " _He_ could have won." She was used to talking to herself, and the disorientation made it easy to pretend that it was normal that part of her was a talking animal. "She knew what Hogwarts is, so wherever we are at least magic exists."

"And we know we're in Yorkshire," the fox said, "So we're still in magical Britain."

Hermione nodded. "That's true. So we just need to figure out _when_ we are, and why we're split in two."

The fox trembled. "She called me your daemon," he said uncertainly. "She said that I've been around since your birth."

Hermione let out a frantic giggle, and pulled the blanket tighter around herself and the fox. Like the rest of the room, it was white, and smelled of lavender.

"And the ermine," the fox continued. Only his head was visible now. "-did you see how intelligent he looked? I think he was like _me_. He _whispered_ to her."

Though the magical creatures were often smarter than muggle ones, Hermione had never seen one speak before. Her insides clenched, and without thinking she hugged the fox to her chest.

They sat like that for a while, until the sound of footsteps made them both look up. Mrs. Weasley was back, with three men, and a menagerie of animals. One of them was tall, with faded ginger hair and kind blue eyes. Hermione's heart sank as she realized that he must be Mr. Weasley. He was not one of Ron's brothers.

The other two men were dressed in spring green robes. One of them took the chair next to her. He had a bearded dragon in a sling around his chest. His race was round and boyish, and his brown eyes were sympathetic. "Hello, Miss," he said gently. "I'm Healer Moss, and this," he nodded to the other man, who was much thinner, "is Healer Umber. We're going to ask you some questions if that's alright?"

A monkey sat on the foot of her bed, his fur was the same black as Healer Umber's hair. Hermione watched him, and nodded.

Healer Moss pulled out a wand, "First, do you mind if I do a diagnostic charm?" He asked, "It won't hurt a bit."

Hermione nodded again.

A cool, tingling sensation ran over her body, and little puffs of smoke popped up from her body in ancient ruins. Hermione could barely make out their shapes, but Healer Moss called out-

"Malnutrition stage two. Damage from curses stage four. Exhaustion. Magical exhaustion. Dehydration state two."

Healer Umber took a clipboard from his pocket, enlarged it with his wand, and then pulled out a quick notes quill and wrote something.

"Do you know where you are?" Healer Moss asked.

Hermione licked her lips. "Yorkshire."

"I told her that," Mrs. Weasley cut in.

Healer Umber nodded, and made a note.

"Don't mind him," Healer Moss said. "Do you know your name?"

"Hermione Granger."

"And your daemon's name?"

Hermione knitted her brows, "He doesn't have one."

Mr. Weasley, who stood in the corner, gasped. He had a round little owl in his arms. "Sorry," he said, when Hermione looked at him.

Hermione looked back at the Healer, "H-he, the fox, didn't exist this morning."

"I was still part of her," the fox said.

There was the sound of furious scribbling, but Healer Moss smiled encouragingly at Hermione. "Mrs. Weasley said that you believe you died earlier?"

Hermione's stomach was leaden. "I did," she said. Tears sprang forth, and she forced herself to speak through them, "I was hit by the killing curse."

Healer Moss continued, "At Hogwarts?"

Hermione nodded.

"Was it another student who hit you with the curse?"

"N-no," Hermione said. "It-it was," she swallowed, could she trust this man? What if they had lost the war?

But the fox had no such worries. "It was a Death Eater," he said. "During the battle that killed Harry Potter."

Healer Moss looked quizzically at her. "Death Eater?" he asked. "Is that a group at school?"

Hermione let out a disbelieving laugh, and the fox cried out, "Surely you know about the war? The second wizarding war?"

The bearded dragon let out a sympathetic noise, and Healer Moss said, "Miss Granger, let's continue, shall we? Do you know today's date?"

Hermione wiped her cheeks, and sniffed. "May second," she said.

The Healers exchanged another look. And then Healer Umber said in a deep voice, "And what year is it?"

Hermione felt her whole body shake. "Nineteen-" she licked her lips. "Nineteen ninety-eight." She said.

Mr. Weasley gasped again, and Hermione felt her whole body go cold.

"Dear," said Mrs. Weasley, "it's nineteen _seventy_."

The fox let out a pained cry, and Hermione went stiff.

"Miss Granger," Healer Moss said. "We'd like to admit you into the hospital, in a safe place where we could do further evaluations. We could treat you, and you'd get the help you need. Would you be alright with that?"

Hermione had no where else to go. Fear lanced through her body, and she suddenly felt as if the safest place for her to be was St. Mungos. Hogwarts was out of the question. Slowly, she nodded.

"Very good." Healer Moss stood, and conjured up a wheelchair. "Standard operation," he said to Hermione, "and it's a long walk to the Lilac Ward."

Hermione did not realize how much pain she was in until she stood, and jerked herself into the wheelchair. The fox followed immediately, and settled himself into her lap.

"Take care, dear," said Mrs. Weasley kindly. She accompanied them to the fireplace, and gave Hermione a gentle pat on the shoulder. "I hope you get all the care you need."

It must have been late, for the Hospital was quiet. Healer Moss spoke gently about what Hermione could expect at the Lilac Ward, but Hermione couldn't pay attention. She clutched the fox close to her, and ignored the curious glances that the other Healers cast her way.

At last they came to a long hall. A door sat at the end, with a placard next to it that glinted in the light. It read: **Lilac Ward, Specialty Healing for the Mind, Psyche, and Spirit.**

Healer Moss muttered something soothing again, but Hermione could not hear him. Healer Umber pressed his wand to a pad on the side of the door. There was a soft chime, and the door opened. Another set of doors awaited them. This one with a red sign that read **Elopement Risk. Wait Until Outer Doors Are Fully Shut Before Opening.**

Behind them, there was a clang, and Healer Umber pressed his wand to another pad. The doors opened to reveal a Healer in pastel green robes. Her animal- _daemon_ , Hermione reminded herself- was a golden retriever who carried a basket full of supplies in his mouth. The new healer smiled at Hermione and said to the other Healers, "I have her room ready just over here."

From what Hermione could see, there was a Healer's station in the middle of the ward, surrounded on both sides by patient rooms. Hermione's was to the right of the station, beside an open area with tables and chairs.

"That's the day room," the new healer said. She opened the door to room 332, and Hermione was wheeled into the middle of the room.

The walls were painted a soothing blue, and there was a desk, a chair, and a bed.

"The senior healers will take a look tomorrow," the new healer said. "But we'll have a nourishment potion and a hydrating potion sent up. Does she have any belongings?"

Hermione shook her head at the same time that Healer Umber said, "Not even a wand."

"Well, that's not too bad," the new healer said cheerfully. "New things are always lovely, aren't they?" To the other healers she added, "I'll just sign the intake forms and we'll get her sorted."

Hermione was moved from the chair to the bed, and given two potions to drink. She did so dutifully, and felt a scratching numbness settle over her as Healer Simms (the new healer) performed new diagnostics and conferred quietly with Healer Moss and Umber.

"Good luck, Miss Granger," said Healer Moss as the male healers left. He gave her a cheery smile, "They'll take such good care of you, and you'll be out in no time!"

"Let's get you changed into the hospital robes," said Healer Simms. The robes were a soft blue-almost white- and slightly thicker than an ordinary hospital gown. Thick socks were supplied to Hermione ("No shoes on the ward, I'm afraid.") and the Healer gently performed her checks. She lingered on the cursed wound on Hermione's arm, and her face softened. "Did you do this to yourself?"

Hermione was amazed that she could still cry after all the tears that had already come. The word 'mudblood' stared hatefully at her. "No." The fox whined, and put a paw on her leg.

"Well, we'll tend to it, shall we?" Healer Simms said. She took a cooling ointment from her daemon's basket, and applied it thickly to Hermione's wound. Then she wrapped it in bandages. "I'll have a senior healer look at it tomorrow and see what we can do."

She made Hermione sign several pieces of parchment, but Hermione barely paid attention to what they said, or Healer Simms' explanations. When at last, Healer Simms said, "That's all for tonight," Hermione breathed a sigh of relief.

Healer Simms left the door cracked, and the golden retriever gave her one last look before trotting away.

Weary, Hermione lay on the bed. The fox pulled the blanket around her, and whispered, "Nineteen _seventy_."

"Let's not talk about it tonight," Hermione said. She felt hollow and sore. The reality of her situation was too overwhelming to face in that moment.

Thankfully, the fox agreed. He curled beneath her chin, and laid his cheek against hers. "At least we're safe," was the last sentence he uttered.

Hermione shivered, and replied, "I hope so."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two:

Hermione scratched at the bandage on her arm where the morning healer had drawn blood. She had been woken early to a flurry of healers who drew samples and ran more diagnostics. Their daemons poked and prodded at the fox with luminous instruments, to the point where both Hermione and the fox pressed tighter together on the bed and asked plaintively to be left in peace.

Then, the senior healer entered, and asked an endless supply of questions about where Hermione was from and how she came to be here. He was an older wizard. His hair was white, and his brown eyes stern behind horn rimmed glasses. His daemon, a crow, cocked her head every time Hermione spoke.

"I've told you," Hermione said, "I didn't see the face of the person who killed me. They were hooded."

Senior Healer Smith tapped his quill against his pad of parchment. "Perhaps you saw their daemon?" He sat at the little desk in the corner of Hermione's room. The enchanted window behind him depicted a cool meadow with deer and wildflowers.

"No, there was no-" Hermione hissed in a breath, and the fox pressed his head beneath her fingertips. Instinctively she stroked his fur the way she would Crookshank's. The motion soothed her somewhat. "No, I didn't."

Healer Smith jotted something down, and then let out a breath. He removed his glasses, and gave her a long look. "Miss Granger, our tests show that you've been subjected to a particularly extended cruciactus curse. We believe that the curse's effects are what's causing the delusions and disassociation from your daemon."

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted the coppery tang of blood. She and the fox had decided in a quiet moment between tests that it might be best to accept any diagnosis they gave her. It was apparent that they were in an alternate reality, and they had no other explanation for their condition or their existence.

"Furthermore," Healer Smith continued, "You've been severely malnourished, and your body shows signs of exhaustion and neglect, as well as a number of other serious curses. We have reason to believe that you've been-" his gaze softened. "That you've had a difficult time of it lately. It's not uncommon for an individual to be confused after a particularly traumatic event."

Hermione thought of Harry's body, and willed herself not to cry.

"We can take care of the damage to your body here," the healer continued. "You'll need an intensive round of treatment, which should take several weeks. You'll receive some mind healing as well, from myself and the other healers. During your stay we'll have a care liason help you with your plans for when you leave here. They can help you try to find your family-"

Hermione could not help the dry laugh that ripped from her throat. Her parents were younger than she was at the moment. And who knew if they even existed in this reality.

"-and, if they cannot be located the care liason will help you apply for Ministry benefits." He gave her a grim smile. "I assure you that you will receive the best of care while you're here, Miss Granger."

Hermione nodded, certain that if she opened her mouth she'd start crying. She stared at the bright pink socks she had been given to wear in lieu of shoes. They were impossibly soft, and she tried to focus on them instead of the whirling thoughts within her head.

"I think the most pressing thing for today is that you name your daemon." Healer Smith put his glasses back on. "It will help you feel more connected. His original name may come to you again in the future, but for now anything will work."

The fox whined, and pressed his cheek to Hermione's hand. Hermione shivered.

The healer heaved himself to his feet, and his crow fluttered to keep herself on his shoulder. "I'll check in with you tomorrow. Do you have any questions for me?"

Hermione shook her head, too overwhelmed to summon up any questions.

A cool, disembodied voice sounded. "Breakfast is being served in the Day Room. Please come get your tray."

Healer Smith went to the door. "Well, I'll leave you to your breakfast."

The moment he left, Hermione fell into her pillows and let out a sob.

"Well," the fox sounded close to tears himself, but he put a comforting paw on her shoulder, "we _should_ really be treated for the curses. We've been hit by so many. And the last year has been very hard on us."

"I wish Harry and Ron were here," Hermione cried into her pillow. "It would be so much easier if- if-"

The fox brushed his cold nose against her cheek. "I know. Me too. This is the first time we've ever really been alone."

"And- and-" Hermione turned her face to look at him, "I've got nothing! No savings, no clothes, no _books_."

The fox whined, and sat back on his haunches. "Well, Healer Smith said that we will get a care liason," he said doubtfully. "I'm sure they'll help us." His ears swiveled around, and he turned to look at the half open door. "But first we need food. We haven't eaten since before the battle."

He jumped down from the bed, and began to trot to the door. Right before he reached it, however, Hermione felt a horrible wrench in her middle and said, "Oh, stop!"

"I-I can't go any further!" The fox cried. His fur stood on end, and he whined, "It hurts!"

"Come back!" Hermione sat up, and opened her arms. Her breath came quicker, and she felt dizzy. The feeling lasted until the fox was situated in her arms, his body flush against hers. He trembled violently in her hold.

It took a few minutes for them to calm down, and then Hermione said, "What was that?"

"I guess we can't separate very far," the fox said, his voice strained. "It's a big room…"

"I wonder what else we should know?" Hermione let out a growl of frustration. "I wish we had access to a library!"

"Maybe there are books here?" The fox rested his head beneath her chin. "We should go look."

"Later," Hermione said.

"Well, we need breakfast at least," the fox said. "I'm hungry!"

"Ok," Hermione's heart began pounding again, but she stood. She kept the fox in her arms, loath to separate from him just yet.

There was a soft hum of conversation when Hermione left her room. A round healer, a little older than Mrs. Weasley, spotted her, and hurried over. Her daemon was a dainty stag with soft green flannel wrapped around his antlers. "Hello Hermione," she said, "I'm your healer today, Jenna. Can I run some daily tests on you?"

Hermione nodded, and realized that none of the healers had carried wands. Instead, Jenna brought out a wooden instrument with a round crystal in the middle, and ran it over Hermione's forehead. She gave a soft smile as a number of symbols began to glow on the crystal. "Well, you're not feeling very well today are you?" She did not wait for Hermione to answer, and instead pushed Hermione towards the day room. "We'll get you fixed up in no time, dear."

The tile floor was cold, and Hermione worried she might slip, but the socks seemed to be enchanted with an anti-slip charm.

The dayroom was filled with tables. Soft cushions of varying sizes were stacked in one corner, presumably for the respective daemons. A few bookcases filled with games, art supplies, and books lined the far wall. An enchanted window took up much of another. It showed a forest scene with a waterfall.

Another healer, a tall gangly man, stood in the day room next to a column of floating trays. He smiled at Hermione, and summoned a tray from the floating column.

"Oatmeal today," he said, removing the tray. His robin daemon sat on a perch on the other side of the column, and let out a calming chirp.

Hermione looked at the bowl of oatmeal and the little plate of berries beside it. There was also a plastic mug with tea. The smell of peppermint wafted up in the curling steam. "What about him?" She said, nodding to her daemon.

The healer looked surprised. "Your daemon is hungry?"

"Starved," said the fox.

"That's no problem," said Jenna cheerfully. "We'll just send down to the kitchens for another bowl. I'll bring it to your room."

Hermione hugged the fox for a moment, and then placed him gently on the ground. She took her tray, and the fox trotted carefully ahead of her.

Just before she reached her room a furious scream made her stop dead in her tracks. A bowl of oatmeal flew through the air in front of her, and crashed against the wall of the healer's station.

"I said I wanted bacon and waffles!" A red-faced girl around Hermione's age appeared in the door next to Hermione's room. "And black tea! Not this herbal- Who are you?" She demanded, looking down a long nose at Hermione.

Jenna bustled in front of Hermione and said, "Come now, Bellatrix, look what you've done to your nice breakfast!"

"It's not what I ordered," the girl named Bellatrix scathed.

At the sound of the girl's name, Hermione felt a rush of ice seize her body. It was like a fog descended over her, and she heard another crash.

"Oh no!" Jenna's voice sounded like it came from far away. Hermione's eyes glued to the girl's face. She could see it now, the beautiful features that hadn't yet been marred by Azkaban. But the confused brown eyes that gazed back at her had no trace of malice in them. In fact, she looked a tad concerned.

Bellatrix spoke, "Is she alright?" The voice was nothing like the cackle of her older self.

Hermione began to shake.

"Come on dear," Jenna said, putting an arm around Hermione. "We'll get you another breakfast."

Hermione was dimly aware of the stag brushing his flannel wrapped antlers against the equally dazed fox.

Her room felt safe, and Hermione sank against the wall next to her bed and stared at the door. The fox was in her arms, he kept repeating, "She can't be here. She _can't be_."

"Bellatrix?" Jenna looked confused. Another healer appeared with a calming drought, and Jenna pressed it into Hermione's hands. "You're safe here, dear. No one will hurt you. Certainly not Bellatrix."

Hermione took the potion but her hands shook so violently that she spilled the blue contents all over her chest.

"Hermione," Jenna crooned, "Try again."

Another potion was pressed into Hermione's hands. This one purple and swirling with blues and greens. Hermione took a breath to steady herself and downed it. It tasted strongly of pine.

A heavy calm washed over her, and Hermione slumped against her bed.

"Much better, isn't it?" Said Jenna with a kind pat to Hermione's hand. "I'll just go sort out your breakfast."

Hermione took a shuddering breath, and watched hollowly as Jenna left.

" _She can't be_ ," said the fox.

A shadow crossed the doorway, and Hermione's breath caught in her throat as she took in the younger form of Bellatrix Lestrange. A voice in the back of her head reminded her that the girl must be Bellatrix Black. An African wild dog stood between her legs, and spoke in a female voice, "Are you ok?"

Hermione shuddered, but the potion kept the worst of her panic at bay. Her fox puffed up, his teeth bared, and he stood protectively over Hermione. "You can't hurt us again!" He growled.

Bellatrix's mouth fell open in shock, and the wild dog cocked her head in confusion. "We didn't-"

"Bellatrix! Go back to your room please!" Jenna's voice called from across the corridor.

Bellatrix gave one last worried look to Hermione, but backed away. Her daemon lingered a moment longer, golden eyes glued to Hermione and the fox, and then she too backed away.

Hermione was left alone. The mudblood scar on her arm had been wrapped in a thick bandage by the earlier healers, but it still tingled with pain beneath the healing salve, and she wrapped her arms tightly around the fox.

"It's ok," she whispered into his fur, "We're safe. She can't hurt us here."

But the fox remained tense, and only said again, "She _can't_ be here."


	3. Chapter 3

Trigger Warning: There are hints of a previous suicide attempt in this chapter. It discusses the aftermath, and discovery, as well as the lingering pain from the attempt but does not go into great detail.

Chapter Three

Hermione sat at the little desk in the corner of her room and watched the meadow through the enchanted window. "How about Hugo?" She asked.

The fox stuck his tongue out in disgust. "That's what we are naming our son," he said, "not ourself." He sat on the edge of the desk and stared at her.

"Well I don't know what to name myself!" Hermione shot back. There was a metal cup on the corner of the desk with water, and she pulled it towards herself and drank. "I don't hear you offering up any ideas."

"My name is Hermione," the fox said testily. "That's what Mum and Dad called us."

"Won't that get confusing?" Hermione felt so tired.

"Yes, it will." The fox sighed. "But I don't have any other suggestions. It feels like something Mum and Dad should do."

"Well they can't," Hermione reminded him. Her voice became choked. "They don't even know who we are right now. They haven't even met!"

"I know that!" The fox shouted back. Then, he winced. "I'm sorry," he said in a softer tone. "I'm still upset about- about her."

Hermione took another drink of water. "Me too," she admitted. "I can't believe she's here. Of all the people."

"We have the worst luck," the fox said glumly. He wrapped his tail around his paws and shook his head, "That's what Ron would say."

Hermione sniffled, then squared her shoulders. "I'm not going to cry anymore about it," she said. "What's done is done, and here we are. We might as well get used to it."

"To what, being alone?" The fox asked. His ears drooped. "To having no family, no friends? To being locked in a psychiatric ward with-"

"To having to make our own fate." Hermione interrupted.

"This is so weird," The fox said. "It's like I can hear your thoughts, but not really."

Hermione reached out and stroked his shoulder. "We're still connected. Even if we aren't the same person. And we still have all our memories. That's something, at least."

"Why am I thinking of Dumbledore?" the fox asked.

"Because Dumbledore wouldn't have squandered this chance," Hermione said resolutely.

"Not that we know of," the fox said.

Hermione nodded, "Dumbledore was all about the bigger picture and doing what's best for everyone. The first wizarding war is about to break out in fits and starts. If we could make sure that the first war ends with Voldemort dying- really dying- then we can save everyone we know."

"Including us," the fox finished. He looked a little less depressed. "All we have to do is find the horcruxes, and save Harry!"

"Well, I'm sure it won't be easy," Hermione said. "But we must be here for a reason. I have to believe that."

"Then that reason must have something to do with her." The fox said darkly.

Hermione started, and the fox continued, "Why else would we be in the exact same spot that she's in?"

"Maybe she's about to do something really destructive?" Hermione offered.

"Maybe," the fox looked thoughtful. "It just seems like too much of a coincidence." He licked his lips, and his amber eyes fixed on the door. "Maybe we're here to stop her."

Though it was warm, Hermione shivered.

"Taking out one of- one of his best lieutenants would do a lot for the war," the fox said. "A lot for Neville."

"There are so many things that could change the outcome of our reality-"

The fox bristled. "I didn't like our reality," he said. "I didn't like hunting for horcruxes, or risking our lives every year. I didn't like what we did to Mum and Dad-"

"Shh," Hermione cast a look at the closed door, "Not so loud."

There was a moment of silence, and then the fox said, "I think we should do everything we can to change the future."

"What if we make it worse than before?" Hermione chewed at her bottom lip. "It's possible." She added, when he looked skeptical. "Things could have gone worse for us. Things could always be worse."

"We'll be careful," The fox said. "Calculated. And if it all goes to hell I'm sure that fate will step in again and make it right."

Hermione met his gaze, and then nodded. It was worth a try.

It was later, after a new healer had brought them a cup of herbal tea, that the fox said-

"What was it that Mum and Dad were going to name us if we were a boy?" He blew gently on the bowl of tea they brought for him, and gave it a few experimental sips. He was sat in her lap, with his black paws on the desk.

Hermione laughed softly. "Oberon. King of the fairies."

He licked his lips and nodded. "Yes that. Hermione and Oberon. I think they'd like it."

Hermione smiled, and ran her fingertips lightly over his head. "I think they would."

XX

"Stop that," Lailah growled from the foot of Bellatrix's bed. "They're calling us to group soon, and I don't want us to look ragged."

Bellatrix, who was picking a hole in her stockings, stuck her tongue out at her daemon. "Who cares what they think?"

"You care just as much as I do," Lailah said, "We don't want that girl to be any more frightened of us than she already is. Can you imagine a repeat of this morning?"

Bellatrix grimaced, and left her stockings alone. "That was odd," She said, folding her legs beneath her and flopping onto her stomach so that her head rested on the daemon's stomach. "It was like she'd seen a ghost."

"We don't even know her," Lailah groused. "I've never seen her before in my life. The Healers acted like we'd done something wrong!"

"So did she," Bellatrix whispered. "And her daemon. Did you see his face? He was terrified."

Something churned in her stomach at the memory, and Lailah twisted and licked her chin soothingly.

"They think we're someone else," Lailah said. "That has to be it."

"Yeah," Bellatrix said, "but who?"

It turned out that they didn't have to wait long. The girl-Hermione, came to the afternoon group. Bellatrix sat on the opposite side of the ring of chairs in the dayroom, between the elderly Herman who wore his goldfish daemon in a cup around his neck, and the skeletal Sheilah whose tiny daemon flickered constantly between caterpillar and soft, green butterfly.

Lailah sat regally between Bellatrix's legs, and levelled her yellow gaze at the fox daemon clutched in Hermione's arms.

The healer in charge of the afternoon group, Eddie, had them introduce themselves and discuss the goals they set for themselves in the morning group. His hound daemon prowled the outer edge of the chairs, her looks sharp and kind. Bellatrix kept her gaze firmly on Eddie as he asked the others to go through their goals. Sheilah had wanted to take a shower, but had not managed it. Herman had wanted to write a letter to his daughter and was halfway through with it. He explained the poem he had written the girl in excruciating detail, and Lailah's ears flicked back in annoyance.

"And Hermione, you wanted to name your daemon. How is that coming along?" Eddie asked.

Bellatrix couldn't control the shock that crossed her face.

To the group, Eddie explained that Hermione had experienced a traumatic loss of memory, and was recuperating from that.

Bellatrix eyed the girl's bandages with appreciation. She assumed the girl was there for the same reason she was. Her own arms had been wrapped in bandages for the first three days she had been in the ward. Instinctively she rubbed her left forearm against her thigh, trying to ease the phantom ache that flared up her arm.

For a brief, horrible moment the room faded and Bellatrix heard Narcissa's frantic voice, "Bella? Bella!"

Something sharp pierced her thumb, and the room flooded back into focus. Lailah released Bellatrix's hand, and Bellatrix quickly thrust her bleeding hand into her pocket. Eddie's eyes were still on Hermione, but the other girl stared at Bellatrix with hostile eyes.

Lailah was a firm pressure against Bellatrix's leg. And before Bellatrix could think, she blurted out, "Who attacked you?"

It was like all the air was sucked out of the room.

The fox let out a terrible growl, and Hermione's eyes narrowed. "You did, among others!" She said in a high, frantic voice.

Taken aback, Bellatrix stuttered, "I-I didn't-"

"Not yet!" Hermione spat. The fox's fur was puffed out and his teeth were bared. "But you will! In a few decades. In my own time!"

Her own time? Lailah turned to look at Bellatrix, and Bellatrix said, "What do you mean?"

"I mean that where I'm from you and the rest of your little death eater friends-"

Sheilah let out a low moan, and Herman gasped.

"Hermione," Eddie signaled to his daemon, who jumped into the middle of the circle and stood between Hermione and Bellatrix. "Hermione, please, take a few breaths with me."

Hermione stood, her daemon still clutched in her arms. "I can't do this," she said, "I can't be around her." To punctuate the point, the fox bared his teeth and hissed at Lailah.

Bellatrix's eyes widened as the girl fled back to her room. Lailah whined so low that only Bellatrix heard it.

"Don't worry, Bellatrix," Eddie said. "Hermione's been through something terrible. I'm sure she'll forget about the whole thing."

"Perhaps she's right," said Herman. "I had a cousin who time travelled once. Said it messed up everything." He had a finger in the cup around his neck, and the goldfish daemon was swirling around it, a constant blur of orange. He gazed at Bellatrix with narrowed eyes.

Sheilah whimpered.

"Well, no one can time travel twenty odd years into the past," said Eddie with a dismissive laugh. "I read an article about it once. The longest time travel was only a week! Any longer is unheard of." He let out a nervous laugh, and then said, "Alright, lets get back to it. How about a meditation?"

"Can I go back to my room?" Bellatrix asked. "I don't feel very well."

Eddie sighed, "Yes, if that's what you'd like."

Bellatrix's heart beat fast inside her chest, but she tried to appear nonchalant as she padded back to her room. Her socks squeaked on the cold floor, and Lailah pressed firmly against her leg, nearly knocking her over.

The moment they were back in their room, Lailah began pacing. She panted and whined, her tongue lolling out of her mouth as she cast worried looks over to the wall that separated them from Hermione's room.

"I don't like it," Lailah rasped. "I don't like it at all."

Bellatrix's chest burned, and she sucked in a breath as she collapsed to the floor. In a moment Lailah was in her arms, shaking and whining.

"Stop it," Bellatrix's voice was weak. "We've never cared what anyone thought of us before."

"That was different," Lailah said. Her rounded ears were flat against her head, and her pupils were pinpricks. "That was different and you know it!" She licked her lips, and then looked up at Bellatrix, "What if she's telling the truth?"

"She's mad," Bellatrix said, repeating the same thing internally. "She's only singled us out because we're the first one's she's seen here."

"No," Lailah shook her head, "No, she knows us. She looked at us like she knew our future."

Bellatrix's stomach sank. She pulled Lailah closer, and rested her chin on her daemon's shoulder. "It can't be possible." She said. "It can't be."

"She knew though," Bellatrix said, thinking of Rodolphus' flashing eyes, "She knew about the death eaters."

"We're not death eaters," Lailah growled. "We haven't done anything illegal, the meetings don't mean anything!"

Bellatrix closed her eyes. "She saw us at a demonstration, that's all." Her heart began to slow, "She just thinks she knows us because of that. She must have confused us with whoever actually hurt her."

Lailah whined, still panting. "I don't know!"

"She's here for a reason," Bellatrix said. "She didn't even remember her own daemon's name." She stroked Lailah's side, "She doesn't really know us. She's speaking nonsense."

Gradually, Lailah's breathing returned to normal. "I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"Don't be," Bellatrix replied, hugging her. Lailah reached up and licked her chin, and Bellatrix gently moved them both to the bed. She didn't need the healers to come in and see her in a heap on the floor with her daemon. They were supposed to look better.

"It doesn't change the fact that she hates us," Lailah said some time later.

Bellatrix's eyes narrowed thoughtfully, "Well then, perhaps we should change her mind."

Lailah's ears went up, and a gleam entered her eye. "There's always a way," she said, accidentally quoting Slughorn's favorite piece of advice.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: A New Start

Lailah sat in the doorway, her round ears perked towards the healer's station. Bellatrix sat beside her, just hidden from view of anyone who would walk past. The tile floor was cold.

"They say there's no medical reason to hold her anymore," Lailah whispered loud enough for Bellatrix to hear. "They say that a Ministry liason is coming to escort her to her new facilities tomorrow."

Bellatrix frowned. It had been a week since she had last spoken to Hermione, but she couldn't get the girl out of her head. The girl had returned to group, but was unwilling to meet Bellatrix's eye. She didn't mention being from the future again, and somehow that made Bellatrix and Lailah feel more unsure.

"When are they coming?" She asked her daemon.

Lailah listened again, and said, "I think this afternoon." She sighed. "We're going to lose her to the Ministry system. She could be placed anywhere."

Bellatrix groaned, and Lailah dropped her head onto her paws and closed her eyes. She would look like she was asleep to anyone who saw her. "We need to speak with her," she whispered.

"Why?" Bellatrix flicked a piece of lint from her purple socks. "We'll probably never see her again anyway." But she agreed. There was something about the girl that intrigued her, that called to her. Something about the way her eyes filled with recognition when she looked at Bellatrix. It was unsettling.

Lailah let out a deep sigh. "Now they're talking about us. They're sending us home in the morning if Papa agrees."

Bellatrix jerked. Narcissa's face flooded her thoughts, and she exhaled sharply to clear her mind. "I thought they'd send us North." There was a clinic up in Scotland for "convalescing". Her mother had mentioned it a few days ago at her last visit.

"I guess not." Lailah kept her eyes closed. "Mother will be so disappointed. She loves the attention of having a sick daughter. I bet she's already told the entire Ladies' Guild about us."

Bellatrix drew her knees to her chest. "Papa wouldn't let her," she said, hoping it was true. Her father hated scandal, especially if it existed within his own family. She pushed the thought away, and repeated Lailah's earlier sentiment, "We have to talk to Hermione."

"Well, the healers are all focused on their notes now," Lailah pointed out. "Now's as good a time as any."

Bellatrix started to shake her head, but Lailah was already up and creeping through the door. Swearing under her breath, Bellatrix followed.

Like the daemon had promised, the healers were sat in a circle, looking over the files and notes from the week. They did not look up as Bellatrix slipped through the corridor and into Hermione's room. Lailah shoved the door shut behind them.

Hermione, who was at her desk, stood up immediately, her eyes wide. Oberon puffed up on the desk and inhaled sharply.

"Don't scream!" Bellatrix said urgently. "I'm not going to hurt you." She held up her hands, "I just want to talk."

Hermione's eyes were narrowed, but she looked to the fox. Something passed between them, and she said, "So talk."

Bellatrix blinked. Somehow she hadn't expected it to be so easy. "How do you know about the Death Eaters?" She asked.

"Where I'm from everyone knows about them," Hermione spat.

Oberon added, "They've ruined everything."

"You've really been through something," Bellatrix murmured, halfway to herself. Even with the care of the hospital, the other girl looked fragile and battered. "Is it really so bad, where you came from?"

There was a bitter laugh. "It's unimaginable."

"And," Bellatrix took a breath to steady herself. "The Death Eaters. You think I'm one of them?"

"You're Voldemort's most trusted lieutenant," Oberon spat.

Bellatrix scowled, and Lailah shifted uneasily beside her. "I am not," she retorted.

"You will be," Hermione said, her eyes shaded.

Bellatrix felt a strange mix of pride and fear. "And, and you think I'll hurt you?"

"You'll hurt countless," said the fox. "Not just us. You hurt-" He broke off in a sob, "You-"

"Stop," growled Lailah. "We haven't hurt anyone. Do they judge people based on things they haven't even done in the future?"

The fox growled back, baring his teeth, but Hermione put a hand on his back. "All I know," she said slowly, deliberately, "Is that if things go the way they did in my time, you'll become the most feared witch in the magical world."

There was a part of Bellatrix that preened at that statement. A part she didn't like. Lailah moved closer, so that she pressed reassuringly against Bellatrix's leg. It was Lailah who responded, "We haven't done anything like that yet. We haven't even made our decision yet-"

Bellatrix nudged her to stop the wild dog from saying anything else. It was too late though, Hermione's eyes widened.

"Maybe that's why we're here," Oberon whispered, it was so low that Bellatrix almost didn't catch it. But she did.

"If you haven't-"

"I've got to go," Bellatrix said, feeling suddenly as if she were being squeezed too tightly. "I shouldn't have- I'm sorry."

Hermione's voice caught her right as she reached the door. "Bellatrix!"

Slowly, Bellatrix looked over her shoulder. The weight of Hermione's gaze was too heavy. She looked down.

Hermione's voice was thick with emotion. "The world I come from isn't worth it. You still have a choice. And where there's a choice, there's a _chance_."

Bellatrix nodded once, and fled.

XX

"That's why we're here," Oberon said the moment Bellatrix and Lailah were gone. "That's why we're here. If we take away Bellatrix Lestrange-"

Hermione felt something hopeful in her chest. "Bellatrix Lestrange doesn't exist yet," she told him. Although she had told herself the same thing over and over in the past few days to calm herself, it was the first time she believed it. She had seen something vulnerable in the other girl's eyes. Something that _couldn't_ have existed in her own time. It was promising.

"We need to speak to Dumbledore," Oberon said. "We have to tell him everything!"

Hermione sat on the end of the bed and drummed her fingers on her bottom lip. "We will," she said. "We'll send him an owl as soon as we have a proper address."

Oberon chuckled sarcastically, "Worried about the St. Mungo's address are you?"

"We need all the advantages we can muster," said Hermione. "And I have a feeling that if we try hard enough, Bellatrix might be one of them."


	5. Settling In

**One month later.**

Home was terrible. Bellatrix felt smothered by how _careful_ everyone was with her. Her mother was forever asking her if she was alright. Andromeda made every excuse to be in the same room with her, her daemon Tarak constantly followed Lailah, to the point that Lailah threatened to bite the hare more than once. The worst of all was that Narcissa could not be in the same room without bursting into tears and running away. Luz had settled while Bellatrix was in the hospital, and Bellatrix had a sinking suspicion that she had something to do with it.

Rodolphus had all but disappeared. He sent her a sorry note explaining that he was away on "family business" and hoped she would feel better by the time he returned. Bellatrix had curled her lip at the note and then burned it.

Only her father treated her like he had before. He found her in the kitchen nook one afternoon after Bellatrix had slipped away from Andromeda's prying eyes, pipe in his hand and the morning Prophet under one arm.

Bellatrix knew she looked a mess. She hadn't changed out of her nightgown in three days, and her hair was tangled into knots. Their townhouse was so much smaller than she remembered it being and she looked up at her father and wondered how he would react if she were to open her mouth and scream. Probably not well.

Cygnus Black had his eldest daughter's grey eyes and dark curls, though his were streaked with white. His salt and pepper beard was thick but cut close to his skin. Though his brother had grown soft with age, he was as muscular as he looked in the photos of his days at Hogwarts. "My girl," he said slowly, "you need to get out of this house."

"Mother won't let me leave without escort," Bellatrix said bitterly. Her chin was propped in her hand as she stared dully into the bright kitchen garden."She thinks I'm going to find the nearest bridge and jump off." It was true, she had heard her mother whisper as much to Andromeda when she thought Bellatrix couldn't hear.

"Can you blame her?" Rumbled Berenice, her father's lynx daemon. She jumped up onto the table and blinked her grey eyes at Bellatrix. "You scared us half to death. Druella and Cor want to make sure you're safe, that's all. We clearly didn't realize when you weren't ok!"

"That's enough, Bear," her father said. "I'm sure Bella already feels sorry enough."

Bellatrix did feel sorry, and she hated the guilt that twisted her insides as she tried to meet Berenice's gaze.

Berenice sniffed, but gave Lailah a firm lick on the head. "You need some air," she said. "You've never been comfortable with being cooped up. Not since you were a babe."

Lailah, ears back, leaned against Berenice a moment, and then sat back. Cygnus puffed his pipe, and said, "I'll speak to your mother, Bella. I'm sure she won't object to you going to Diagon Alley."

"Really?" Bellatrix brightened, and stood to throw her arms around her father. "Thank you, Papa!"

He held her close for a moment, and then cleared his throat, "Well. Maybe you'd better get cleaned up first. Your mother will be more likely to say yes if you look presentable."

Sure enough, Druella sniffed over it, but gave her permission. Cor, his bright yellow feathers fluffed up, landed on Lailah's shoulder and whispered, "Not too long, now. Just for the afternoon. Please be home by dinner."

Bellatrix promised, and found the floo powder before her mother could change her mind.

Diagon Alley was hot and crowded. Mostly it was families buying summer necessities for children who had outgrown last year's clothes. Children ran everywhere, calling up and down the street to their friends and begging their parents to buy things.

"Oooh, Mum, look at the owl!" one boy said, pointing to Eyelops where a barn owl sat in the window, gazing imperiously at the passers-by.

"But everyone has one," another girl whined, pointing to a store display that showed orange dragonhide boots. Her daemon flicked to a bright orange chameleon. "Melora Winters has _two_ -"

After a month of near solitude, Bellatrix felt a little overwhelmed at the number of people and daemons pressed around her. Still, she was determined to stay there as long as she could. She got an ice cream cone from the new Fortescue's, and ate it slowly as she and Lailah watched the families pass by.

"You're looking for her, aren't you?" Lailah asked quietly. They sat on a bench in front of the ice cream parlour.

"No," said Bellatrix evasively.

Lailah huffed. "You can't lie to me."

After a minute of silence, Bellatrix sighed. "I can't keep her out of my mind," she admitted. "I keep picturing her terrified face, and her daemon."

"We have to find out more. I don't like the idea that someone might know our future before we do."

Bellatrix licked a melting drop of ice cream from her finger. "We don't even know if she's telling the truth, I told you that I think she might be mad."

"You don't really believe that do you?"

Bellatrix opened her mouth to say yes, but stopped. Something about Hermione's words and surety scared her. There was a part of her that believed Hermione wholly, and that part scared her. Slowly she said, "She didn't seem mad, just upset."

Lailah nodded, eyes on a pair of parents that cooed as their toddler stumbled along beside them. The mother scooped up the child and posed as the dad snapped pictures with his camera. His golden retriever daemon wagged her fluffy tail, tongue lolling in delight. "I don't like it," she said. "Maybe Rodolphus' club isn't worth the trouble."

"I only went to please mother and papa," groused Bellatrix. She sucked ice cream out of the cone and glared at a boy who stuck his tongue out at her. "You know how badly they want the Lestrange match."

"I hope they've changed their mind," Lailah growled. "A true gentleman would visit his intended if he heard she tried to-" she broke off, ears back, and said "sorry."

Bellatrix felt her cheeks warm, but agreed. They had avoided all mention of that night and the horrible three days preceding it. It felt better to pretend it had never happened.

For a fleeting moment, Bellatrix wondered if Hermione would have visited Bellatrix had they been friends. She shook the thought off and stood. Casting the ice cream cone to the pigeons, she said, "Let's go check Flourish and Blotts."

"Ok," said Lailah, jumping to the sidewalk. "Maybe we'll find some answers there."

Flourish and Blotts was just as lively as the street outside. A harassed-looking witch called out, "What are you looking for, Love? Schoolbooks over there!"

"Oh no," Bellatrix said, raising her voice to be heard over a family with three arguing boys. "I've finished already. I'm looking for the Time Travel section."

The witch frowned, "We only have a small selection at the minute with the schoolbooks in such high demand. In that corner there," she nodded to a far corner at the back of the shop.

Thanking her, Bellatrix and Lailah threaded their way to the back of the shop.

"This can't be it," Lailah said.

But it was. In the section marked "Time Magic" Bellatrix found a handful of beauty spell books designed to "reverse the clock" on the body and face, but only one battered copy of "Time Magic for Tots", which appeared to be a picture book teaching children how to tell time.

"Excuse me," Bellatrix called to a man carrying a crate of books. "I'm looking for a book on Time Travel."

The man's terrier daemon sat down and panted as the man said, "I'm sorry Miss, we haven't stocked Time Travel books in months. They're not selling."

Bellatrix's stomach sank. How was she supposed to decide if Hermione had told the truth without a book?

The clerk looked towards the front of the shop, where the woman was talking to the family with the boys. "You could try Wilton's," he said under his breath.

"Wilton's?"

"It's at the end of the alley," he said quietly, "they have older selections. More appropriate for specialized magical interests."

She nodded. "Thank you."

The farther down the alley she walked, the less crowded it was. She breathed a sigh of relief as she stepped into a quiet, smaller alley that shot off from Diagon Alley's main road. The alleyway was shady, and the windows above the shop had flower pots dangling outside of them. An elderly witch waved to her as Bellatrix passed beneath her window.

Wilton's was situated at the end of the smaller alley. The shop window and door were painted bright red, with peeling gold letters that read "Wilton's Books, purveyors of the finest texts in Britain! Est 1730."

The shop was gloomy, and smelled of dust and old parchment.

"Can I help you?" Called a voice.

Although Bellatrix had only heard it a handful of times before, she froze at the sound of the voice. A curious feeling swirled in her chest as she walked forward and sought out the owner of the voice.

Hermione appeared from behind a tall shelf, her hair wrapped in a flowery kerchief. "If we don't have it, we can order it for-" Her eyes widened as she spotted Bellatrix, "-you."

For once, Oberon didn't puff up at the sight of her. He was perched on a shelf over Hermione's head, a dust rag tied around one paw. He merely jumped down and watched her, his amber eyes surprised.

"I'm looking for-" Bellatrix cut herself off. Should she admit what she was looking for?

Lailah had no such qualms. "Time travel books. We want to know if you're telling the truth."

For some reason, this seemed to amuse Hermione. She bit her lip and beckoned Bellatrix to follow her. "Over here."

Bellatrix followed Hermione to a shelf that had significantly older texts. Some were written in latin, others in german, but she found a sizeable collection of english texts that looked promising.

"You're not going to find it," Hermione said, arching a brow as she leaned against the shelf. "I've read all of them, and this one-" She indicated a moldy tome titled **Time Magicks: Past, Present, and Past Again**. "Is the best, but it doesn't explain anything about dying and going back to the path."

"I'll take it." Bellatrix said loftily. She felt ridiculous enough already, she wasn't about to leave empty handed.

"Five Galleons," Hermione said.

"For a book?"

"A rare book. I'm giving you the friends and family discount too."

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes, and Lailah let out a disbelieving huff. "Why?"

Hermione blinked, but it was Oberon who said, "Because we've taken an interest in you."

Bellatrix's cheeks warmed, and she felt confused. Somehow that raised more questions than not. She followed Hermione to the till and paid the five galleons, silently thanking Lailah for suggesting they bring all their pocket money with them.

She didn't want to leave, something about Hermione made her want to stay and talk to the girl about everything.

AS if she knew what Bellatrix was thinking, Lailah gave her a warning glance, and said, "We should go, Mother's expecting us."

They had two hours before dinner, but Bellatrix nodded, and said to Hermione, "Bye then."

"Bellatrix," Hermione called her back, taking a deep breath. She paused, and then said, "Your receipt."

Bellatrix felt a strange disappointment, but took the receipt with a murmur of thanks, and fled.

XX

As soon as the other girl was gone, Oberon shook the dust rag from his paw and said, "We're getting awfully friendly with her."

Hermione sighed. "If she is the reason we were sent here I want to make sure I don't mess things up by being standoffish."

"She could use a little standoffishness," Oberon growled.

"We can't think like that," Hermione sighed. "She's not the same person. Not yet anyway. You said as much last weekend."

"That's before I saw her again," Oberon said.

"I saw the doubt in her face," Hermione said stubbornly. "I think we have a chance to turn her."

"Dad always said we were too optimistic," Oberon said sadly. "Like Mum."

Hermione felt a pang in her chest at the thought of her parents. "He said it as a compliment," she reminded Oberon. "He liked that about us."

The bell over the doorway rang again, and Hermione started to call out when she saw the frail form of Luke Wilton Jr, the ancient owner.

Junior, as he liked to be called, gave Hermione a gummy smile. "Hello my dear," he said. "Busy day?"

"Not too bad," Hermione said. "We sold the Granite Tablets today!"

"Already? That's a record. You must be my lucky charm." He patted her happily on the shoulder, and his moth daemon fluttered sleepily in greeting.

"I can close today," she said, watching his arthritic hands shake as he pulled a heavy book up and opened it on the counter.

"Nonsense," he said. "It's a beautiful day outside. You should be out in the sun, not cooped up in here." His brown eyes twinkled as he gave her a fond smile. "I'm so lucky the Ministry sent you. Allow me to show my thanks by sending you home early. With pay."

"I couldn't, sir," she began, but he shushed her.

"Have a knut for an ice cream," he said, handing her a bronze coin. "And enjoy it for me. You know I can't have ice cream since Ethel passed."

His daemon fluttered again, and he reached a finger up to stroke down her brown wing. "Go now, Hermione," he said, "I'll see you early enough tomorrow."

She took his advice and bought a chocolate ice cream cone before she walked home. It was more than a knut, but she had enough to pay her way.

The Ministry had set her up with a little room in a dormitory for young single working women called Trawley House. The house was a ten minute walk from Diagon Alley, and sat across from a pretty little park.

The muggles of this world had daemons too, so Hermione didn't have to hide Oberon as she meandered to her new home. It had taken her a while to get used to the menagerie of creatures that filled this world, but she and Oberon enjoyed pointing out rare animals to each other and trying to name them.

Trawley House was a yellow brick house with black shutters and a black door. Hermione discreetly held her wand up to the key lock, and smiled as it clicked and opened for her.

The smell of stale cigarette smoke assaulted her as soon as the door opened, and the landlady, Mrs. Bobbin, leaned out her front door to call a greeting to Hermione, "Alright then?"

"Never better, Mrs. Bobbin," said Hermione, trying not to smile at the sight of the middle aged lady in her pink velvet housecoat and hair curlers. She had never seen Mrs. Bobbin out of her hair curlers, not even when the older lady walked her down to the grocery store on the corner and introduced her to Ricardo- the produce man who was a wizard and would "have her back" if she needed help with the plumbing.

It was Mrs. Bobbin who tactfully explained to Hermione (without looking at Oberon) that it was odd for a daemon to speak to people who weren't family members or sweethearts. Oberon had bristled, and whispered angrily when they were in private that Lailah had spoken to them, but he had tried to keep quiet when in the presence of others since. Apparently he couldn't keep his mouth shut around Bellatrix.

Hermione jogged up the creaky stairs to the third floor, where her rooms were. It was a breezy room, with only a lingering smell of cat urine and cigarette smoke. The walls were light yellow, the ceiling spacious. Mrs. Bobbin provided a scratchy set of bed linens for the small iron bed that sat in one corner. A black door led to the bathroom, and a tiny kitchenette with a two-burner stove and sink and mini fridge sat in another corner. The cabinets over the sink were white, and Hermione had seen to it that they all had a thorough scrubbing. Her first paycheck had been spent on a wand from Ollivander's. It felt almost as good as her first wand had, and she felt much better with it near. After groceries she had enough left over for a box of scrubbing powder and a sponge.

A battered wardrobe sat beside the kitchenette, one door askew. The Ministry had given Hermione coupons for the used clothing store, so she had five everyday robes, and a pair of black shoes that were just a little too big.

Hermione made herself and Oberon a sandwich and settled on her bed. With her next paycheck she meant to buy an armchair from the antique shop next to Wilton's, but for now the bed served as her table, nightstand, chair, and bed. The Ministry had paid her rent for six months, and then she would be expected to take over the fifteen galleons a month.

She had just finished her sandwich when a tap sounded at her window. A brown owl perched there, a letter strapped to his leg. Oberon perked his ears up.

Curious, Hermione jumped up and yanked up the window. The owl hopped in.

"We don't have treats," said Oberon apologetically as Hermione pulled the letter free.

The owl accepted a bit of turkey from Hermione's sandwich, and hopped onto the bed, presumably to wait for Hermione's response.

"It's from Dumbledore," Hermione said to Oberon.

The fox nodded, "I thought it must be, there's no one else who would write to us. What does it say?"

Hermione read aloud;

"Dear Miss Granger,

I apologize for the lateness of my response. I have been preoccupied with the end of term here at Hogwarts, and I had some other important matters to tend to this month. I found your letter intriguing, and I appreciate your need to be vague. I must say that my curiosity is piqued.

I would be pleased to meet with you. I am free next Wednesday or Thursday, and can meet with you any time or place you would like. May I suggest that we meet at Hogsmeade, if you are able? The Three Broomsticks is always a lovely place for private chats, and I am fond of their lemon tart.

Please respond by owl with your preference on place and time.

Sincerely,

Dumbledore"

"We have Thursday afternoons off," said Oberon immediately. "How about lunch at the Three Broomsticks that day?"

Hermione nodded. She went to the counter, pulled open a sticky drawer, and rummaged around until she had found a quill and ink. Hastily she scrawled a reply, and tied it to the owl's leg.

She felt light as she watched the owl take off into the mild evening air. Her plan to speak with Dumbledore was well underway, and hopefully he would help her find a way to join the cause.

But that wasn't the only reason she felt so light. Meeting Bellatrix again had cemented her belief that her destiny, or at least purpose for being there, was tied to Bellatrix somehow. For the first time she hadn't felt the sting of panic and anger that rushed her every time she saw Bellatrix's features. Instead she had felt invigorated.

"We need to be careful," Oberon said warningly in that eerie way that signalled he knew what she felt. "She may not be Bellatrix Lestrange yet, but she's still dangerous."

Hermione reached out to stroke the soft fur of his ears. "She may be dangerous," she admitted. "But so are we."


	6. Lunch

Sunlight streaked through the shop window as Hermione tied a notice to the shop owl, Hera. "This is for Mr. Duncan," she told the owl, "His books arrived this morning."

Hera snapped her beak dangerously close to Hermione's fingers, but Hermione didn't flinch. Junior had told her that the fussy eagle owl was more bark than bite, and so far it had proven true.

With Oberon on her heels, Hermione carried the owl through the shop and into the back, where a few boxes held extra book copies, and a rickety stair led to Junior's apartments. The back door was a dutch door, the top half already open to let in the breeze. Hermione snapped out her arm, and watched the owl take off.

For a moment she breathed in the cooler jumped up to a little perch beside the door, and let the wind ruffle his russet fur. It was still early enough that the heat had not come in, and Hermione instinctively felt that it was going to be a good day. In two days she would have her meeting with Dumbledore, and she was certain that he would have answers for her.

The shop bell rang, and Hermione reluctantly turned back to the shop. "I'll be right with you!" She called, heading into the shop.

"You!" Bellatrix was there, dressed in light yellow robes. Her face was livid. "I want a refund. There's nothing at all in this book!"

Lailah,twined around Bellatrix's legs, fur bristling.

Hermione put her hands on her hips. "I told you the answers wouldn't be in that book," she reminded Bellatrix.

"You still said it would be helpful! And it wasn't!"

Oberon let out a huff that sounded like a laugh, and Hermione shot him a warning look. "What exactly are you looking for?"

"Answers!"

"About what?" Hermione moved to the till, and pulled out a little slip to explain the refund to Junior. Resignedly, she began to fill it out.

Bellatrix moved to the counter and watched Hermione write. "I want to know more about the future," she said slowly, hesitantly. "I want to know if you're telling the truth, and what you've seen, and how it can be possible that-" she broke off, and fiddled with the stack of bookmarks beside the till.

"Book?" Hermione asked.

Bellatrix blinked. "What?"

"Where's the book? I have to make sure it's in good condition before I issue a refund."

Bellatrix pursed her lips. "It's at home. On my desk."

Hermione stared at her. "You can't expect a refund without the book."

"Well, I was too angry when I finished it to think clearly! There's nothing at all helpful in that book! It's all about hypotheses and anecdotes and the history of the time turner!"

Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes. "Of course there's nothing about my future in the book. I didn't write it!" She crumpled up the refund slip, and Oberon took it to chuck it into the trash bin.

Her frustration eased as she took in the crestfallen look on the other girl's face. Slowly she said, "You know, you could just ask me."

Bellatrix jumped, but a cool mask slid over her features. "I didn't think you'd speak to me," she said haughtily. "After all, you made it very clear that you despise me."

Beneath the counter, Oberon put his paw reassuringly on Hermione's foot. Taking a breath, she said, "I've had a change of heart." Impulsively, she added, "I take my lunch at noon. Would you like to get lunch with me? We can talk then."

Bellatrix studied her, and Lailah whispered something Hermione couldn't hear. At last, Bellatrix said. "Alright, noon then. I'll be here." Without another word she spun on her heel and left.

Hermione felt a bit lightheaded in her absence.

"What are you going to tell her?" Oberon asked. He jumped up onto the counter and hissed in frustration as he knocked over a quick notes quill stand.

Hermione started cleaning up the mess. "I guess I'll tell her the truth," she said. "If she comes back."

"Oh, she'll come back," Oberon snorted, "She's too angry to leave us alone."

Sure enough, at five till noon Bellatrix and Lailah reappeared in the shop. She pretended to browse while Hermione helped the last customer and greeted Junior.

Junior's brown eyes twinkled as he wished Hermione a good lunch, and she felt her cheeks warm as she followed Bellatrix out the door.

"I figure we could go to The Bird of Paradise for lunch," Bellatrix said, naming one of the upscale restaurants towards the front of the alley.

Hermione grimaced, mentally calculating how much she would have left for groceries and other necessities if she went to The Bird of Paradise. "How about Neely's," she said, naming a sandwich shop around the corner. "They're usually quiet this time of week."

Bellatrix looked as if she would like to disagree, but Lailah cleared her throat and looked pointedly at Bellatrix. After a moment, Bellatrix said, "Fine. But I hope they're edible."

"Best sandwiches I've ever had," Said Hermione in relief. Oberon led the way, his tail held high.

Neely's smelled like fresh baked bread. Margene, the manager, called out cheerfully, "Hello loves, menu's over here!" Her toucan daemon fluttered his feathers at Oberon, and the fox gave him an easy smile.

"I'd like a turkey and swiss," said Hermione, "and one for him," she said, nodding to Oberon.

Margene was one of the few people who did not react strangely to Hermione's request for food for Oberon. She even brought a bowl of water for him every time Hermione came here.

"I'll have the same," said Bellatrix, who looked at the menu as if it would bite her.

Hermione found a table in the corner, away from the other regulars, and folded her hands on the red and white checkered tablecloth. Now that the moment had come she felt nervous. Oberon jumped into her lap, and she stroked him gently as Bellatrix and Lailah sat down.

"It looks clean," said Bellatrix doubtfully, examining the tablecloth.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's clean, Bellatrix. Margene is nothing if not professional."

Bellatrix arched a brow. "Hmm."

Lailah jumped into the chair between Bellatrix and Hermione and laid her head on the table.

Hermione waited until Margene brought their food, and then cast a discreet _muffliato_.

"What was that?" Bellatrix asked.

"Something that will keep our conversation private," said Hermione. She began to cut Oberon's sandwich into bite sized portions for him. He was self conscious about making a mess in public.

"It's odd to see an eating daemon," remarked Bellatrix.

"I've eaten my whole life," retorted Oberon as he watched Hermione cut up the sandwich. "I'm not about to stop now."

Bellatrix looked interested. "So where you come from, the daemons eat like humans do?"

Hermione took a deep breath. She and Oberon had decided to be completely honest with Bellatrix. "Where we come from there are no daemons," she said.

Lailah gasped. "No daemons?" She asked, her voice higher than usual. "But how…"

"Where's your soul then?" Asked Bellatrix, looking alarmed.

"I guess it's just a part of you," said Hermione, unsure. "At least, Oberon was a part of me before we- before we died."

Bellatrix let out a low whistle. "So you really did die. And then you just, what? Appeared here?"

"Pretty much," Hermione said. "I woke up here, only it's the past for me. Where I was from it was 1998."

Bellatrix's brow furrowed. "And you knew me?"

Hermione hesitated. "I knew of you, yes. And I'd had some run-in's with you."

Oberon snorted, but Bellatrix was too intent on Hermione. "Where I wounded you?"

Hermione stretched the arm out that had previously had the word "mudblood" carved into it. The marks were still there, but so light they were only visible in certain angles. The healers taught Hermione how to do a glamour charm that would mask it entirely. "Yes."

"Why?"

Hermione blinked. She had asked herself the same question at the Shell Cottage as she cleaned the deep and painful wound. "Because you hated me," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "Because I'm a muggleborn."

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes, and took a bite of her sandwich. Chewing, she shook her head. "No, I wouldn't do something like that just because of your blood status," she said. Beside her, Lailah's ears were plastered against her skull. Bellatrix reached out and scratched Lailah's ear. "There had to be something else."

Hermione scowled. "Well, you thought we had taken something from your vault at Gringotts, but we hadn't."

"So I _tortured_ you?" Bellatrix looked alarmed.

"You do that," said Hermione bluntly. "I'm not the first."

"We _don't_ do that," retorted Lailah, her eyes wide. "We've never hurt a thing before! We-" She broke off at a touch from Bellatrix.

"You said there were other times?" Bellatrix asked.

Hermione took a deep breath, and then told her the story of what happened at the Ministry. First, she filled her in on the history of the first Wizarding war, and then the beginning of the second. She kept the story about Harry vague, but other than that she was thorough. By the end, Bellatrix had set down her sandwich and looked pale.

"I wouldn't kill Sirius," she whispered hoarsely. "I love him! He's like my little brother! He's younger than Cissy is…"

Hermione felt sorry for the witch in front of her. "Maybe Azkaban changed your mind," she said gently. "You were devoted to Lord Voldemort, and Sirius was loyal to- to his godson."

"This Voldemort guy must have cursed me," Bellatrix said. "The imperious, or- or something!"

Hermione shook her head, and looked down to avoid seeing the glisten of Bellatrix's eyes.

Lailah let out a low whine, and Bellatrix said firmly, "Well, I'm not going to kill him this time around."

"Then you believe me?" Hermione asked.

Bellatrix and Lailah exchanged glances. "I don't want to believe you," Bellatrix said at last. "But there's something about you that makes me believe you." She let out a hollow laugh. "Maybe you're mad, and I'm mad for listening to you."

Hermione offered a tiny smile. Without thinking, she reached out and placed her hand on top of Bellatrix's. The other girl stared at her. "Bellatrix, we have a chance to change the future for the better. You and I. I can do it without you, but it would be so much easier if I had some help."

"Merlin," Bellatrix whispered. "You expect you and I to go up against this Voldemort guy alone? That sounds like a suicide mission!"

"I'm hoping we won't be alone," Hermione admitted. "I've reached out to Dumbledore-"

"Dumbledore?" Bellatrix wrinkled her nose, "What does he have to do with any of this?"

"In my time, he's the one who organized the people who fought against Voldemort," explained Hermione. "I'm sure he already has measures in place. If we could help _him_ then we could help prevent the war. Or at least end the first one resolutely."

Bellatrix chewed on her lower lip. Lailah kept her gaze on Hermione, the golden eyes burning into hers intensely. It was the daemon who asked, "What did Dumbledore say?"

"He wants to meet us," said Oberon. "In two days."

Lailah looked to Bellatrix, who said, "I want to hear what he says about all this before I get involved."

Hermione nodded, disappointment spreading in her chest. "I understand."

"Maybe we could do lunch the day after?" Asked Bellatrix breezily.

"Are you free?"

Bellatrix barked out a laugh, "Oh, I'm free. No one wants to hang out with the mad witch who tried to kill herself."

Hermione started. She hadn't known what Bellatrix was in the hospital for. "Oh, Bellatrix…"

Something in her gaze must have changed, because Bellatrix stiffened and spat, "I don't need your pity!" Lailah bared her teeth in a growl.

"I don't pity you," Hermione said quickly. "I only- I'm just sorry, that's all. I'm sorry."

Bellatrix regarded her coolly, and then said, "We'll meet here at noon on Friday."

Hermione nodded as Bellatrix and Lailah stood. She watched them go, and suddenly wondered if she had done the right thing.

"I didn't know," she said to Oberon.

He licked her chin soothingly, "I know," he said, "I know, I didn't either."

"I wonder why-" Hermione said, then broke herself off. "Well, the important thing is that she's giving us a chance. That's more than she would have done in our time."

Oberon nodded, then looked at the clock above Margene's counter. "It's five past," he said urgently, "We'd better get back before Junior gets angry."

Junior didn't care. He only smiled and said, "It's good to see you go out with a friend. We need as much camaraderie as we can get."

Hermione began shelving the new books, and wondered if that's what she and Bellatrix would become.

_Friends._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely comments and Kudos! I've gotten a couple of questions about Lailah that I wanted to address: 
> 
> 1\. I chose African wild dog partly because they're one of my favorite animals and we have them at my local zoo and I love watching them, and partly because they're the most successful predator in Africa. They're incredibly loyal and coordinated, and I couldn't shake the feeling that one would be a perfect match for Bellatrix. Lailah actually popped into my mind before the rest of the story did. 
> 
> 2\. It IS unusual to have a same sex daemon, but Lailah and Bellatrix aren't ordinary at all. Some say that if you have a same sex daemon it means you prefer same sex relationships, and that's definitely the theory for most of the people in this universe when they notice that Lailah is female. Bellatrix's parents have theories and don't care. 
> 
> 3\. It's also unusual for daemons to talk to other people. I flexed this a bit and made it so that familial daemons will talk to other humans, but Oberon just doesn't know how to daemon, and Lailah is Lailah, so she's about to talk to whomever she wants to. 
> 
> I hope that answered some of your questions! Again, thank you so much for the comments and kudos! I'm so happy that you're reading this and I'd love to know what you think!


	7. Chapter 7

Hermione straightened her robes again, and wished for the third time that she had something a little less casual than the spring robes to wear to the meeting with Dumbledore.

The Three Broomsticks smelled like roasting chicken and the warm must of beer. Hermione ordered a butterbeer from the barmaid, and found a seat near the entrance.

Oberon stuck close to her, his fur bristling with excitement. His eyes were fixed on the door, and he gasped as the door opened and a plume of brilliant crimson feathers entered the bar.

Fawkes found them first, landing on the table before Hermione. She could not resist stroking his brilliant plumage in greeting, "Hello," she whispered.

Fawkes regarded her, and let out a gentle trill as she remembered how personal daemons were and pulled her fingers back. She straightened, and looked around.

Dumbledore was at the bar, ordering his own butterbeer. He turned, and gave her an easy smile that made her feel at ease.

"Miss Granger, is it?" He asked. "You must forgive Fawkes, he has been looking forward to meeting you."

She reached out and shook his hand in greeting. "It's so nice to see you again," she said, beaming. "You can't imagine what it's been like."

He chuckled, "No, I imagine I can't." He looked around, "But perhaps we should move our meeting upstairs to one of the private tables? We can speak freely up there."

She nodded, and scooped Oberon up. The fox clung to her as she climbed the stairs behind Dumbledore.

The rooms above the bar were snug and cozy. Dumbledore ushered her into one that held a long table, chairs, and a blackboard. He sat down at the head of the table, looking the picture of expectant grandfather.

It hurt to look at him and picture his mangled form at the base of the astronomy tower. For a moment, Hermione was certain she would cry. Luckily, the moment passed.

"Are you alright, Miss Granger?" He asked, leaning forward to take her hand once she'd sat.

She gave a watery laugh, "Oh yes, sir. Only… only it's so good to see you again." Surely everything would be ok with Dumbledore near.

His brows creased. "I'm sorry, but have we met before? I'm afraid I don't remember."

"Yes sir, we have. I'm- I _was_ your student at Hogwarts. Only I won't be your student for twenty years."

Dumbledore blinked, and sat back. "I think," he said slowly, "That you'd better start at the beginning, Miss Granger."

So Hermione did. She went into more detail than she had with Bellatrix, taking a moment here and there to wet her mouth with the butterbeer. Dumbledore did not interrupt her, except to ask a few clarifying questions here and there. He looked pale at the mention of his death, but Fawkes gave a gentril croon, and Dumbledore relaxed again.

"So you see," Hermione finished, licking her lips. "I need to prevent the second war from happening. We need to finish Voldemort before he gains the power he has in my time, and I'll do _anything to do that_."

Dumbledore stroked his beard, blue eyes sharp. "Your story is extraordinary, Miss Granger."

Hermione's heart sank. "Then, you don't believe me?" She clasped her hands around the empty butterbeer mug, and Oberon let out a low keening wail beside her.

"On the contrary, I do." He steepled his fingers, "As far as I know, there is only one other person who knew that Tom Riddle was interested in making Horcruxes. Your knowledge in that matter, as well as the other things you've mentioned are very compelling." He nodded, "Yes, I think I do believe you."

Hermione's shoulders slumped in relief. "Then you'll let me help?"

"I think you've helped a great deal already, Miss Granger. You've confirmed many things that I've been puzzled about."

Oberon spoke from Hermione's lap, "But surely we can be more help. We're here for a reason! We've already convinced Bellatrix Black to reconsider-"

"Bellatrix Black?" Dumbledore arched a brow. "Now there's a name I do know. What does she have to do with all of this."

"She is- well, will be- Voldemort's greatest supporter," said Hermione. "I thought if I stopped her then I might have a chance at weakening him."

"Indeed?" He thought about that for a moment. "I can see why. The Black family is well connected to those with… _darker_ inclinations. She could be a valuable resource."

Oberon jerked his tail, and Hermione felt a shade of disappointment. It must have shown on her face, because Dumbledore gave her a warm smile.

"Don't misunderstand, Miss Granger. I do think you could be of great help in the effort to prevent Tom from taking over control. I only think that your safety should be paramount while you get used to your new world. But this-" he opened his palms, "Well, this provides us an opportunity. Perhaps you could find out certain things from Miss Black."

Hermione pursed her lips. "What kind of things?"

"Just little things. Who her family is in contact with, if they have any plans for supporting Tom, where the sympathies of their friends lie."

"So you want me to spy on Bellatrix?" Hermione asked.

Dumbledore shook his head, "Of course not. I only ask you to act as a go-between if Miss Black is willing. Surely a few harmless questions won't make her feel ill at ease? You and I could meet to discuss her answers, and as I learn more about you I'm sure I could find something more useful for you to do. Something that aligns with your skills?"

Hermione frowned. "I need to help, sir," she said quietly. "I need to save my friends."

"And you will," Dumbledore said. "But we are not at the point where we need to put a-forgive me- a _child_ in harm's way. We will find a way for you to help, I promise you. In the meantime, perhaps you ran into Miss Black because that's the best way you can help at the moment. After all, it sounds like you've already made progress with her."

Glumly, Hermione nodded. She didn't want to admit that it hurt that he thought Bellatrix would be more useful than Hermione. After all, Bellatrix wasn't the one who knew what the future held.

He put his hand on hers. "I want to stress again how much you've helped already, Miss Granger. You've shown unbelievable courage. Not many witches or wizards would be able to keep their wits about them when faced with a new reality."

Hermione nodded, and swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Do you have everything you need?" He asked, the picture of grandfatherly concern. "Clothes, food, and such?" Fawkes let out a trill, and he reached out and put his hand on the phoenix's sleek back.

Hermione nodded, "Yeah."

"There's nothing you need?"

She didn't want him to think that she contacted him to beg. "No, thank you professor. I've got everything I need."

He smiled. "I think we're beyond such formalities now, Miss Granger. I'd be pleased if you called me Albus."

She couldn't imagine ever calling him _that_.

He promised to be in touch, and with a gentle pat on her shoulder he left the pub.

Hermione flooed back to Diagon Alley and walked home, feeling disheartened.

"At least we have a goal," Oberon pointed out as they lay on the bed in their room. "We can talk to Bellatrix, and pass the information to Dumbledore."

"Yeah," said Hermione in a monotone. At least it was something, but it was hardly the same as being the brains of the golden trio. "He didn't seem interested in Harry at all," she said, frowning.

"Probably because you made it clear you want to prevent Harry from ever being singled out by Voldemort," said Oberon. He put his paw on Hermione's hand. "We have a decade before Voldemort singles out Harry. Maybe Dumbledore will use the information we've given him to stop him this time. After all, he knows about the horcruxes-"

"I should be helping!" Hermione burst. "I'm here for a reason, and I doubt it's to enjoy my youth while everyone else takes down Voldemort!"

"Maybe not," Oberon said. "Maybe this is our chance for a normal life. The life we would have had were it not for the war. Maybe we're not meant to play any part in the war this time around."

"I don't believe that!" Hermione snapped.

Oberon sighed. "Would it be so terrible to have a normal life? Really?"

Hermione rolled over, unable to face him. The truth was that she had often longed for a normal life, especially during the hungry months she and Harry had been on the run. She had sat on the edge of her wards and dreamed about Hogwarts and her classes.

Oberon cuddled close to her back, and rested his head on her side. "Get some sleep," he said gently. "We've done all we could anyway. There's not anything we can solve tonight."

Hermione obeyed, and fell into a fitful dream about phoenixes and horcruxes.

XX

"So that's it?" Bellatrix asked, eyeing the packet of crisps she had purchased as if it might bite her. "He just said 'talk to Bellatrix'?"

"Yes," Hermione said. "He wants to get your perspective of the way the, er, purebloods are reacting to Voldemort." They were back at their table in Neely's sandwich shop.

"Hmm," Bellatrix opened the packet of crisps, and looked into it. "I would have thought he would ask more questions about the time travel thingy."

"So did we," said Oberon. Hermione shot him an irritated look. He ignored her, and said, "You've never had crisps before, have you?"

Bellatrix looked surprised, but masked it quickly. "My family considers them to be a muggle food," she sniffed, sounding every inch the pureblood princess. The effect was ruined as she took out a single crisp and eyed it doubtfully. "These are potatoes?"

"They won't hurt you." Oberon said, sounding as if he was fighting laughter.

Bellatrix took a bite, and her expression cleared, "Oh!" She dug in the packet for another one, and crunched into it. Lailah made a chirruping sound, and Bellatrix nodded at her. "It's good!"

Hermione felt her dark mood lighten a bit as she watched Bellatrix enjoy herself. "I thought for sure he'd make use of me. Especially since Fawkes was there."

"His daemon?" Bellatrix asked. "The phoenix?"

Hermione nodded.

"He just told you his daemon's name?"

"No," Hermione sighed, "but we know Fawkes from our time. He saved Harry's life. Apparently he's as friendly as ever, he even let me pet him-"

Bellatrix and Lailah gasped in unison, and Bellatrix dropped the crisps.

"You _pet_ his daemon?" Lailah asked, her ears back.

Oberon, who had been slurping a little cup of soup, narrowed his eyes. "What's wrong with that?"

"You should never, ever, touch another person's daemon," Bellatrix said, she looked pained. "Not unless you're, well…" she blushed.

"It's personal," Lailah whispered. "Very personal. It's as intimate as sex, for both people." She looked at Bellatrix, and added, "Bella touched Andromeda's daemon once, when we were very little, and mother slapped Bella. It felt weird too, and not in a good way." She shivered.

Hermione frowned. "But I didn't feel anything when I touched Fawkes," she said. Oberon shook his head.

Bellatrix played with her plate. "Were you-I mean did you and- and Dumbledore…?" She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Hermione felt her cheeks burn. "No!" she gasped. "Ew, no! I would never- he's _Dumbledore_!"

Bellatrix's eyebrows rose, "And Dumbledore didn't seem affected?"

Hermione shook her head, and Oberon said, "Not in the least." He looked sick.

"Well, you say Fawkes existed in your world, but Lailah didn't?" Bellatrix asked. She bit her bottom lip. "That's odd, then."

"What?"

"Well, maybe Fawkes isn't his daemon at all. If you didn't feel anything when you touched him, and you would have noticed."

"Are you sure I would have noticed?"

Lailah snorted, "Oh, you know. And your daemon notices too. It feels," she cast a sideways look at Bellatrix, "significant."

"There's so much we don't know about this daemon stuff," Oberon said. "I've touched other daemons before. Does that mean every time I touch them I'm _significantly touching_ their person as well?"

"No," Bellatrix shook her head, "a daemon can touch another daemon. That's fine."

Hermione traced a rune into the table, and said, "Why wasn't that in the book I read? About touching daemons?"

"Well, it's just something everyone with a daemon knows," Bellatrix shrugged. "But back to the point, I'm thinking that maybe Fawkes isn't Dumbledore's daemon at all if you can touch him."

"So he doesn't have a daemon?"

Bellatrix and Lailah exchanged another look, and Hermione felt irritation prickle at her scalp.

"People without daemons aren't… _normal._ " Bellatrix said slowly. "Dumbledore's always been eccentric, but he's not _that_ eccentric. I don't think they'd let him be the head of Hogwarts if he didn't have a daemon. Losing your daemon means that you lose the part of yourself that makes you _human_."

Lailah shivered, and put her front paws in Bellatrix's lap. Bellatrix wrapped her arms around Lailah's neck, and said, "I think it's more likely that he's embarrassed by his daemon, or he doesn't want people to see it for some reason."

Uneasiness churned in Hermione's stomach. She didn't like this conversation. "I'm sure he has a perfectly good reason," she said, ignoring the looks Oberon shot her.

Bellatrix relaxed. "I'm sure you're right. It's not the first time someone has disguised their daemon. It happens in romance novels all the time."

"You read romance novels?" Hermione asked.

Bellatrix lifted her chin. "I read many things."

"Well," Hermione cleared her throat as Bellatrix resumed her interest in the packet of crisps. "What do you think of his proposal? Will you do it?"

"I don't really like the idea of spying on my family for Dumbledore," Bellatrix said. She glanced at Hermione. "But you could."

Hermione gaped at her. "Me?" She licked her lips. "Just how do you propose I do that?"

"Well, Cissy needs a tutor, and you seem pretty intelligent. You do work at a book store. Maybe I could pass you off as a halfblood friend and you could meet my family yourself."

"That would-" she started to say _never work_ , but Bellatrix cut her off.

"It's as good a plan as any. And who knows, maybe it will open the door for my parents to invite you to dinner. Papa likes to show off that he has friends of many stations."

"We'll do it," Oberon said. "As long as it doesn't interfere with our shifts at Wilton's."

Hermione kicked his chair under the table, but he ignored her.

Bellatrix looked pleased. "I think you'll find that Cissy is very flexible with her time," she said. "I'll just secure the idea with Papa and Mother first, but I'm sure you'll have an offer from them by this time tomorrow. And who knows, maybe I'll decide to spy for you once I get to know you better." She took up the packet of crisps, and then asked, "Are you going to finish yours?"

When Hermione shook her head, Bellatrix scooped Hermione's packet of crisps into her bag, and stood. "I'll owl you tonight," she said, flashing a brilliant smile. She patted Hermione on the shoulder, and flounced away.

Hermione sat there in stunned silence, a bit unsure of what had just happened.


	8. Chapter 8

Hermione stood before a neat little townhome and asked herself for the hundredth time if she was doing the sensible thing. Beside her, Oberon peered interestedly at the iron railing. Or, more specifically, at the arrow on the iron railing that read "Servant's Entrance."

"Are we expected to go down there?" He asked in distaste. "Since we're technically servants?"

"I don't think a tutor is the same thing as a servant," Hermione said, "At least, I hope not. Bellatrix did say in her letter that she's passing us off as halfblood."

Druella Black had owled Hermione a few nights prior, inquiring about her availability. There was no interview, which Hermione was puzzled at, but apparently Bellatrix's word was enough to go by.

The red front door opened, and Bellatrix herself appeared, looking amused. "You don't have to sit there and stare," she said.

Oberon flicked his tail as Hermione blushed, and said, "We didn't know which entrance to use."

Lailah appeared at the round window beside the door, and gave a high chirp.

"This one," Bellatrix said, "The other one goes to the kitchen, where the elves work. We don't have anyone use that one anymore."

Relieved, Hermione opened the gate and headed up the red brick steps. The outside of the townhouse was white, but the inside was a dazzling silver that made the entrance hall look grand, if a little cold. There was a staircase immediately to the right of the door, and an open family room to the left, filled with sumptuous couches and richly upholstered chairs. A curio cabinet occupied much of the room, filled with artifacts that Hermione longed to examine.

"Bella, is she here?" A stately woman with light hair and sharp blue eyes appeared at the top of the stairs. She was dressed in high-necked robes, and her canary daemon sat on her shoulder. Catching sight of Hermione, she glided down the stairs and held out a hand, "Hello, you must be Miss Granger. We've heard so much about you."

"Pleased to meet you," Hermione said, noting that Druella did not extend her hand to shake. Oberon stepped a little closer, so that he was pressed against her leg.

"Narcissa is waiting in the playroom," Druella said, gesturing to the stairs. "If you'll follow me, I'll show you where that is."

"Don't let Cissy frighten you off," Bellatrix said, waiting at the base of the stairs as Hermione moved to follow the woman.

The upstairs was slightly warmer in shades of cream. Photographs lined the hall, mostly of Bellatrix and two other girls Hermione assumed were her sisters. The photographic girls waved as she walked down the long hallway and up another flight of stairs.

"She's behind in Potions, Herbology," Druella said to Hermione as she led her up a wooden staircase that spiralled around a narrow room, "and History of Magic. Her professors have given her extra homework for the summer, and she's having difficulty completing it. I'm afraid that the last two tutors were not motivating enough," she stopped at a door, and turned to face Hermione. "I hope you'll be up to the task."

Hermione inwardly groaned, but smiled and said, "I'm sure we'll get along well."

Druella blinked, "I certainly hope so." She turned and opened the door.

Hermione had expected to find a room full of toys, but instead she found a room that looked closer to her own living room at her parent's house, if her living room had velvet furniture. Tall, arched windows took up three walls, punctuated by bookcases. There were sheepskin rugs on the wooden floorboards, and a long coffee table surrounded by two armchairs and a sofa.

A girl of twelve or so sat on the sofa, her swan daemon beside her. She had long blonde hair that was caught back by a ribbon, and she glared sullenly at Hermione. "I don't need a tutor," she spat at her mother. "I can do it myself."

"Evidently not," Druella said, sweeping into the room. She whipped her wand, and a stack of books, inks, and parchment flew from one of the shelves and landed on the coffee table. "I expect you to try with this one," she said sharply, "None of your nonsense."

Narcissa scowled. "I didn't do anything to the last one," she grumbled, "It's not my fault she didn't work out."

Druella hummed under her breath, and turned to Hermione. "If she doesn't cooperate, please let me know. I'll be in my study, which is just down the stairs."

Hermione nodded, and sat in one of the chairs as Druella left.

For a long moment, Narcissa and Hermione stared at each other. Oberon sat primly at Hermione's feet, ears pricked forward.

"I didn't do anything to the last one," Narcissa said in a low voice. "Mother only thinks I did because I used to bite my nannies."

This startled Hermione so much that she let out a laugh. "Well, if I had bit my nannies I think my mother would be cautious with new people too."

"You won't be able to teach me," Narcissa said, slumping in her seat. The swan sighed, and cuddled closer. "No one can. I'm impossible."

"Who told you that?" Hermione asked.

Narcissa shrugged. "Everyone knows it. I'm not going to be able to finish my homework and Professor Dumbledore will expel me." Her voice grew heavy and her eyes glistened.

Hermione felt a rush of sympathy. "Well, why don't we work on your schoolwork so that you don't get expelled?" She wasn't going to admit that they probably wouldn't expel the girl for not finishing her homework, she didn't want to give her a reason not to finish.

"It's dull!" Narcissa wailed, bursting into proper tears. "When I look at it all I see are words, and none of it makes sense! I thought I'd be learning fun things, not how to cure boils!"

"So your homework is to write about the cure for boils?" Hermione asked gently.

"No!" Narcissa wailed.

Hermione let the girl cry for a moment, then asked, carefully, "Then what is your homework?"

"I don't know!" Narcissa spat, glaring up at Hermione with wet eyes. "I can't remember!"

Eventually, Hermione coaxed the assignments from the girl. Narcissa ripped through the parchment, and thrust it at Hermione.

While Narcissa cried, Hermione read through the assignments, and made a mental checklist of things from easiest to most difficult.

"Why don't we start with the summary of a potion?" Hermione asked with forced cheer.

"I don't know any potions!" Narcissa said.

"I'm sure that's not true," Hermione stood, and went over to the bookshelf where the homework had come from. She picked up the first year potions textbook, and carried it back. "What about one that you already did?"

"No," Narcissa said, shaking her head. "Those are all boring."

Oberon flicked his tail in irritation, but Hermione forced her tone to stay even. "Well, what's your favorite potion?"

Narcissa shrugged, and Hermione continued, "My favorite potion is the headache reliever. I used it all the time at school. Or Felix Felicis, the good luck potion-" she rattled off all the potions she could think of, and slowly, Narcissa stopped crying and stared at her in wonder.

"You know everything," Narcissa said in wonder. She traced a crease on the arm of the sofa with her finger.

Hermione felt a small glimmer of satisfaction, "Well, not everything, but I did well in potions."

"What's the worst potion you can think of?" Narcissa asked, her eyes wide.

Hermione thought, and finally said, "Probably one of the poisons. Moulder's Envy is pretty bad."

Narcissa's eyes shone bright, "What does it do?"

"It blisters the skin and drives the drinker insane," Hermione said, shivering.

"Gross!" Narcissa said, smiling a little. Her daemon leaned up and whispered something in her ear. "What's another one?" She asked.

Hermione listed another potion, and watched in fascination as Narcissa relaxed.

"You know," Hermione said, thinking of a book she had seen at Wilton's, "I can bring you a book on poisons, and we could use it to complete most of your potions homework."

Narcissa's grin vanished. "I don't know," she said slowly.

"I'll help you with it too," Hermione said, "I bet we could use it for some of your Herbology homework too." There was a section on poisonous ingredients, and most of her Herbology homework was drawing a diagram of a plant, labelling the different parts, and then writing about it's magical uses.

Narcissa chewed at her lip. "I can try," she said doubtfully.

"Perfect," Hermione said, beaming at the girl. "That's all you need to do." She shuffled the paper, and pulled out a History of Magic assignment. "Today, why don't we make the magical timeline?" It only needed fifteen events, and Hermione could have done it in her sleep.

Narcissa still looked doubtful, but she slid to the floor and pulled her ink and quill to her. Hermione helped her find the events, and noted that Narcissa seemed to be pulled to the most violent, gruesome moments in history, like the clubbing of Baldric the Fair, the murder of Caligula, and the witch hunts of the middle ages.

 _Maybe it's a Pureblood thing_? She thought to herself.

An hour passed, and Hermione looked up to see Druella in the doorway. The woman had a satisfied smile on her face, and she nodded to Hermione. "I think that's enough for today. Perhaps you could continue on Thursday?"

Relieved, Hermione nodded, and helped Narcissa mark the pages where they left off.

"Bellatrix has requested that you stay for dinner," Druella said, "If you don't have any other plans?"

"No," said Hermione, surprised. "I'd be happy to. Thank you."

Druella led her downstairs, where Bellatrix and her last sister were waiting at the dinner table. The girl shook Hermione's hand warmly, her hare daemon watching on in interest.

"Where's Papa?" Narcissa asked. "I wanted to tell him about the greenbriar massacre of 1502."

Druella's brows rose, "Maybe not at dinner, darling," she said, "But I'm glad you're taking an interest in your studies."

"Who's taking an interest in her studies?"A booming voice called from the doorway.

Cygnus Black was a handsome man who reminded Hermione vaguely of Sirius. He greeted Hermione warmly, and said, "Any friend of Bella's is welcome in our home."

Dinner was a welcome change from the sandwiches that seemed to have taken over Hermione's life. There was roast potatoes, pork chops, and assorted greens. Druella poured her a sparkling elf made wine that made Hermione's chest feel warm. To her disappointment, the talk was mostly light. Cygnus recounted some funny little stories from his day, and then Andromeda began asking about a trip she wanted to go on with some friends. There was nothing that Hermione suspected Dumbledore would want to know.

There were, of course, polite questions levelled at Hermione about her position at Wilton's, and Cygnus looked interested as she explained the types of books they specialized in.

"Older books, you say?"

Hermione nodded, wiping her mouth on her napkin. "Junior likes to collect rare texts, and so we have quite the selection at the store."

"Perhaps I'll have to come by sometime," Cygnus said. "I'm afraid I've never been to Wilton's, but it sounds like the kind of place that might have what I'm looking for."

"Cygnus also collects rare and unusual books," Druella said to Hermione.

After Narcissa's fascination with gruesome history and poisons, Hermione expected the rest of the family to be, well… dark. But they weren't. In fact, they were so ordinary, if a little more stuffy, that Hermione was almost disappointed.

After dinner, Bellatrix invited Hermione up to her room. It was bigger than Hermione's, not that she was surprised, and decorated in soft lavender shades. The canopied bed sat against one wall, flanked by a large dresser and a desk. Postcards were tacked to the wall above the desk, showing off the various places Bellatrix, or her friends, had been. There was a fireplace opposite the bed, with two armchairs and a little table between them. Cushions littered the floor.

Bellatrix flopped into the more well loved of the chairs, and Lailah dragged a cushion over to sit at her feet. Hermione sat in the opposite chair, and smiled as a fire blazed to life.

"Your family is lovely," she said quietly, moving so Oberon could sit beside her on the chair.

"My family is boring," Bellatrix clarified. "I don't know what Dumbledore thinks he's going to learn from us."

Lailah snorted, then pointed out, "If she told Dumbledore that you became Voldemort's most trusted follower, then it's no wonder that he's taking an interest in where you come from."

Bellatrix looked at Hermione, who colored.

"Dumbledore needs to be informed," said Oberon defensively, "We couldn't leave anything out."

Bellatrix considered this, and then nodded. "I don't blame you," she said, reaching down to pet Lailah. "Dumbledore should know, if it helps."

Hermione relaxed a little, and Oberon's fur smoothed.

"Let's change the subject," Lailah said abruptly. "Tell us more about you, Hermione."

So Hermione did. She told Bellatrix and Lailah (with help from Oberon) about her parents and finding out she was a witch. Bellatrix asked many questions about dentisry, and seemed slightly horrified by the idea.

"They drill your teeth?" She asked, touching her jaw.

"Well, you don't feel it," Hermione explained. "They numb your mouth first."

"Have they done this to you?" Bellatrix asked, eyes wide.

Hermione nodded, "Several times."

Lailah clucked, "That's barbaric."

Oberon, who had jumped down to stretch beside Lailah on a cushion of his own, whipped his tail teasingly over Lailah's muzzle, "It's hard to fix your teeth without potions. Muggles had to learn how to take care of themselves in other ways."

Lailah growled, and leapt for Oberon.

For a moment, Hermione was startled, until she realized that Oberon was laughing as Lailah tumbled him onto his back and rubbed her nose against his. Oberon twisted, and snaked up to grasp Lailah's ear in his teeth.

"Oh stop!" Hermione said, standing.

A cool hand reached for her wrist, and pulled her back down to her seat. "It's fine, Hermione," Bellatrix said gently. "They're just playing."

Oberon and Lailah continued to wrestle, growling and snapping at each other, but Hermione realized that they were not really trying to hurt each other. Though she was more than three times his size, Lailah was gentle with Oberon, and let him get the upper hand. Furthermore, she felt a strange lightness at the action. "He's never done that before," she explained to Bellatrix.

Bellatrix's cheeks grew pink, "Lailah plays with Luz and Tarak sometimes," she said, sounding almost shy, "But she's never taken an interest in other people's daemon's before. It's a good thing, it means we're…" she bit her lip, and said almost shyly, "friends."

"Oh," Hermione said. She sat back, and felt a small warmth sizzle in her chest. It was true that Bellatrix was the closest thing she had to a friend in this world. And it was also apparent that she was nothing like the woman who had given Hermione her scar.

"Am I right?" Asked Bellatrix softly, pulling Hermione from her thoughts, "Are we friends?"

Hermione looked into grey eyes that swam with something guarded. Slowly she smiled.

"Yeah, we are."

She was rewarded with a bright grin. "Good," Bellatrix said. "Otherwise Lailah might've been embarrassed."

"We wouldn't want that." Hermione laughed.

"Tell me more about your time at Hogwarts," Bellatrix demanded, leaning forward and grasping Hermione's hand.

Warmth filled her at the touch, and Hermione leaned forward herself. "Well, I was friends with two boys who were constantly getting into trouble…"

It was after ten when Druella poked her head in and gently asked if Hermione would be spending the night.

"Oh!" Hermione started. "Oh, no, I should be getting home. I have work in the morning."

Bellatrix pouted, and Druella caught it, "Miss Granger will be back in two days," she reminded Bellatrix.

Bellatrix sighed, but stood with Hermione and threw her arms around the surprised witch. "Can I come for your lunch tomorrow?" She asked.

Hermione hugged her back, "I'd love that," she said, surprised that she meant it. It felt good to talk to someone again.

"Tomorrow, then," Druella said. "Miss Granger, I'll see you out."

Hermione followed her through the corridors, and slid her wand out at the front door so she could apparate home.

"Before you go, Miss Granger," Druella said, putting a hand on Hermione's shoulder. She looked more hesitant in the gloom of the candlelight. "I just wanted to thank you. Bellatrix has been having a rough summer, and she seemed much better since she's begun seeing you again."

Hermione didn't know how to respond to this, but she offered a small smile and said, "I've really enjoyed seeing her as well."

"Yes, well," Druella sniffed, and her calm mask slid back over her features. "I'll see you again on Thursday. I'm very pleased with what you accomplished with Narcissa today."

"I'll see you on Thursday," Hermione echoed, and stepped through the door. She pulled Oberon into her arms, and apparated home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Narcissa, she's having a rough summer.   
> Thank you again for all the kudos and comments! Please let me know what you think!


	9. Chapter 9

It was strange to be friends with Bellatrix Black.

They had fallen into a routine over the past few weeks. Every day that Hermione worked at Wilton's, Bellatrix would show up at 11:50 and accompany her to lunch, even on days where Hermione planned to tutor Narcissa in the afternoon. On those days, Hermione would join the family for dinner and then chat with Bellatrix in her room until late. After the first night she let herself out when it grew late, and an elf locked the door behind her.

At first, they spoke about Hermione's world and the bleak future that Hermione was trying to prevent, but then their conversation shifted towards more ordinary things like ancient runes and arithmancy. It was exhilarating to have someone Hermione could speak to about her studies, someone who not only could keep up with her but enjoyed speaking about it as well.

"Let's go to your place instead," Bellatrix said one evening after Hermione had joined the Black's for dinner.

Oberon dropped his ears back, and Hermione said, "My place?"

Bellatrix, who was halfway up the staircase, said, "Yes, your place. We always stay here, but I want to see your house."

Hermione thought of the shabby boardinghouse where she lived, and said, "Wouldn't you be more comfortable in your own room?"

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "No, I need to get away for a while. We're always here." She skipped down the steps, Lailah on her heels, and then stopped. Hurt crossed her features, "Unless you don't want me there?"

"No!" Hermione rushed to reassure her, "No, it's fine. It's just… my home isn't as nice as this one."

Bellatrix waved her off, "No one's home is as nice as this one. Mother prides herself on her decoration choices."

"Alright…" Hermione said.

Bellatrix flashed a toothy grin, "Let me just tell Mother so she won't worry," she said, disappearing down the corridor to the kitchens.

A shadow appeared over Hermione, and she turned to see Andromeda sitting on the stairs above, her hare daemon in her lap.

"Hello," Hermione said awkwardly. She didn't know the middle Black daughter very well, but she had adored Tonks.

"Hello," Andromeda replied in a low voice. She looked as if she were debating something. "Nice weather we're having."

Hermione looked through the round window to where the summer rainstorm pummelled the glass. "Erm…"

The hare daemon cleared his throat, and thumped Andromeda's leg with his foot.

"Right," said Andromeda, speaking quickly. "I'm going to Spain tomorrow with some friends, and I'll be gone for the rest of the holiday." She leaned closer to Hermione, her eyes pleading, "Will you… will you keep an eye on Bella for me?"

Hermione started, and Andromeda continued.

"It's just… She's been so much happier since you've been around, and I'd hate for her to be- to be alone or something while I'm gone."

Oberon caught on quicker than Hermione did, "Of course we'll keep an eye on Bellatrix," he said, creeping up the stairs so that he could speak low. "Was it- was it bad before?"

Andromeda's face clouded, and Hermione wanted to give her a hug. "We didn't know," the younger girl said. "Not until- not until Cissy found her…" Her shoulders trembled, and she reached up to swipe at her eyes. "Just- just keep an eye on her."

"We will," Hermione promised. Oberon nodded, and reached a paw out to lightly touch the hare.

"Ok," Bellatrix called from down the corridor. "Mother has been notified!"

Andromeda leapt up, her hare in her arms, and ran back up the stairs.

"Don't look so serious," Bellatrix said as she approached Hermione, "I'm sure your home can't be that bad."

Lailah chirped at Oberon, who growled back playfully and leapt down from the stairs. He swiped his tail over Lailah's nose.

Hermione used side-apparation to take Bellatrix and Lailah to Trawley House. They landed on the front steps, and Bellatrix eyed the building. "It's big enough," she said, "Little dirty, perhaps…"

Hermione rolled her eyes, and pressed her wand to the keyhole. The door opened, and Mrs. Bobbin stuck her head through the ever-open doorway. "Hullo Hermione," she said. She smiled when she saw Bellatrix, "Oh good, I was beginning to worry that you'd get lonely, spending all your time alone. Welcome, love."

Bellatrix murmured a polite hello, and whispered to Hermione when they climbed the stairs, "Your housekeeper is very outspoken."

"She's not my housekeeper," whispered Hermione back, "She's my landlady."

"Landlady?" Bellatrix wrinkled her nose, "What's that?"

"She owns the house," explained Hermione, "and rents out the rooms."

"Rooms?"

"Other girls live here too, we each have our own room."

"Oh," Bellatrix eyed the doors they passed with interest.

Hermione stopped in front of her door, and hoped she remembered to tidy up this morning. She put her wand to the lock, and opened the door.

The evening was still light, and the soft dusky sky made the room look almost cozy. Her bed was a mess, with rumpled blankets and half-read books. Hermione quickly swept the dishes that littered the counter into the sink, and turned to gage Bellatrix's reaction.

The other witch looked around, "This is your home?" She looked hesitant, as if she didn't want to say something that might offend Hermione.

Lailah had no such qualms, "There's no furniture."

"Lailah!" Bellatrix whispered, horrified.

Oberon huffed, and jumped onto the bed. "Some of us have to work for our things," he said, clamping his teeth around a blanket to pull it smooth.

Hermione felt her cheeks warm, "I can transfigure a couch or a chair," she said. She opened her cabinet to see what could be transfigured.

"No," said Bellatrix, "That's alright, we're fine." She sat on the end of Hermione's bed, and leaned against the wall.

Oberon cleared his throat, "Hermione takes her shoes off before she gets on the bed."

"Oh!" Bellatrix immediately reached down to pull off her shoes, "Sorry!"

Hermione would have been happy if a sinkhole appeared beneath her feet and swallowed her up. "That's alright," she said weakly. She kicked off her own shoes, and joined Bellatrix on the bed.

"Was your muggle home like this?" Lailah asked from the floor. She rested her chin on the mattress beside Bellatrix's knee.

Oberon snorted, "Not at all. We had a nice house."

"This is a nice room," said Bellatrix, looking around. "It's got potential. And you get to make it your own. Mother picked out all of my furniture. I didn't have a say at all."

"I like your room," said Hermione softly.

Bellatrix smiled at her, "And I like yours."

Lailah snickered.

"I do!" Bellatrix said, blushing. "Don't listen to her."

"She's just jealous that she can't fit on the bed," said Oberon smugly as he settled himself on a pillow. "Not without touching Hermione."

Lailah growled, and leapt onto Oberon. Hermione wiggled out of the way just in time, as Oberon flipped onto his back to nip at Lailah's front legs.

"Get off!" He snarled, "You're too big!"

"I think I'm just right," said Lailah, dropping her body down. She held her head up, a canine grin on her face, "See?"

Oberon wiggled out from under her, and seized the last bit of pillow between Lailah's front legs. "This is mine!" He yelled, shoving his way beneath her jaw.

Bellatrix giggled, "You need to learn to share," she said to Oberon.

Oberon made a rude noise in response, and curled up pointedly between Lailah's front legs.

Hermione would have been offended if she didn't feel Oberon's happiness through whatever bond they shared. She shook her head at his antics, and made sure there was space between her and Lailah-

-Which meant that she was pressed up tightly against Bellatrix. The other witch didn't seem to mind, she absentmindedly leaned against Hermione, and said, "Any fun customers at the bookshop today?"

"We had a woman bring in her poor nephew," Hermione said, "the poor kid wanted a book from the children's section, but his aunt wanted him to read Gotshaw's theory on advanced arithmancy."

"Does she realize that you need a N.E.W.T. in arithmancy to understand anything Gotshaw says?" Asked Bellatrix in disbelief. "How old was the kid?"

"Eight," said Hermione. "I tried to convince her to buy him something he wanted, but she told me that her nephew's going to be Chief Warlock when he grows up, and bought the Gotshaw for him."

"That poor boy," laughed Bellatrix.

Hermione giggled, then Andromeda's face flashed into her mind and she sobered. "Bellatrix," she said carefully, "How are you?"

"Fantastic," said Bellatrix, beaming at her.

Hermione felt something in her chest stir. She considered dropping the subject, but something pushed her to continue. "Would you tell me if you felt like you did before… before you went into the hospital?"

Lailah, who had been chewing on Oberon's ear, dropped it immediately and stiffened. Bellatrix herself inhaled sharply.

"I'm sorry," said Hermione quickly. She felt Bellatrix start to pull away from her, and reached out and took the other witch's hand. "Please, I just. I'm your friend, and I want to make sure you're ok."

"I'm fine," Bellatrix said, her face and voice expressionless. "I'm always fine."

"You _weren't_ ," Hermione said, squeezing Bellatrix's hand. "I just want you to know that you can tell me anything. I've told you everything about me, and I just-" she broke off. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

Lailah spoke, her voice rough, "Tell her."

Bellatrix's head snapped up to look at her daemon. "What?"

"We can trust her," Lailah said, "tell her."

"You don't have to," Hermione stressed, feeling as if she had spoiled the night.

Bellatrix stared at Lailah for a moment, and the wild dog gave an encouraging nod.

"I just," Bellatrix bit her bottom lip, and Hermione ran her thumb soothingly over the back of Bellatrix's hand, "I've had a rough year."

Lailah made an impatient noise, and Bellatrix glared at her. "I'm telling it," she snarled.

Hermione opened her mouth, "Bellatri-"

"My great grandfather died last autumn," Bellatrix said quickly, her eyes on the opposite wall. "And we were… close." She swallowed heavily, and her voice quivered a little when she opened it next, "And I was sad afterward."

"Understandable," murmured Oberon.

"He wanted me to take on the family duties after I left Hogwarts," Bellatrix continued. "Maybe you don't know, but as head of house he had the right to appoint his heir. He- he told me he wanted it to be me. The plan was for me to move into Grimmauld Place after school and learn how to manage the estates and navigate the Wizengamot and such. He wanted-" she took a deep breath, "He wanted me to continue my schooling and get a Mastery in Defense Against the Dark Arts and maybe Charms."

"He thought we were destined for greatness," said Lailah. "We were always his favorite. We deserved to lead this family."

Hermione inhaled sharply, guessing where this was leading. "But that didn't happen?"

Bellatrix let out a shaky breath, and shook her head. "Great grandfather was always a little absent minded when it came to legal affairs," she said. "He always thought he'd have more time. After he died, well, I begged Father to fight for me, and he told me he'd handle it."

Lailah growled, and Hermione leaned closer to Bellatrix.

"They announced it in the Prophet before they told me," Bellatrix said. "My cousin Orion was appointed head of house, with his son Sirius as the heir. I- I wrote to Orion," her voice broke and she cleared her throat. "I wrote to him, and he told me that there was no hard evidence to support that I'd been designated as heir, but-" her voice grew sarcastic, "But that I'd be _welcome_ in Grimmauld Place if I wanted to stay in London after Hogwarts." She let out a bitter laugh, "As if it was about the house!"

"Oh, Bellatrix," Hermione said. "I'm so sorry."

"Then, I asked Father if I could still try for my Masteries." Bellatrix continued. "And he said I had better focus on learning from Mother-" she let out another laugh.

"He meant that we should learn how to be a good wife," spat Lailah. "He encouraged us to get closer to Rodolphus, and spend our time becoming comfortable in the various social circles Mother is a part of."

"So all my year mates were preparing to go into training, or apprenticeships," Bellatrix sniffed, "And I was being prepared to be a perfect doll." She bit her lip again. "I couldn't stand it. I felt… trapped."

Hermione watched Bellatrix's face darken, and her chest ached for the other woman.

"I finished at Hogwarts, and came home," Bellatrix said, "And overheard father tell Orion that I was too hot headed and emotional to be head of house, and that a political spinster was a terrible fate, and-"

"And he'd rather see me settle down and drop these foolish dreams before they spoiled my chance for marriage." Lailah finished miserably. Oberon reached up, and tucked his head beneath Lailah's jaw.

Bellatrix worked her jaw, her eyes blazing, "And I _hated him_ ," she said, her voice raw. "I hated him, and I hated myself for hating him, and I thought- I saw my life stretch before me. I'd marry Rodolphus, have children until I produced an heir, and then attend garden parties and gossip until my death. And we decided-" she sucked in a breath, "We decided that we'd rather _anything_ but that."

"We were supposed to meet the Dark Lord that night," Lailah said. "Rodolphus wanted to take us to his meetings, we'd only gone to the ones at school before."

"But we stayed home instead," Bellatrix said, sounding miserable. "And now everyone hates us."

"Oh, Bella," Hermione breathed. She wrapped and arm around Bellatrix's shoulders, and pulled her close.

Bellatrix stiffened at first, and then relaxed into Hermione's embrace. She rested her head against Hermione's, and let out a soft sob, "The worst part is that I proved my father right. I _am_ too emotional." Lailah began growling, a constant, hollow sound that made Oberon whine.

"No, you're not," Hermione said fiercely. "Anyone would understand! Your father-" a hundred words for Cygnus popped into Hermione's mind, but she swallowed them down. "They were wrong, Bella, you would be a great head of house."

Bellatrix let out a wet laugh, "Well, they don't think so."

"I think so," Hermione insisted, squeezing tighter.

They stayed like that for a while, heads pressed together. Oberon began grooming Lailah, washing her ears gently until the rumbling growl died away.

"Well, one good thing came of it," Bellatrix said, her voice tired but sturdy once again. "Mother stopped asking me to accompany her on social visits, and Rodolphus sent me a letter yesterday formally ending our relationship."

Hermione frowned, anger boiling in her chest, "What a horrible man," she spat.

Bellatrix chuckled darkly, "It's for the best. The word is that he's been spending time overseas with Cynthia Rowle. She's infinitely more suited to being a wife," she sighed, "And she's prettier than me, so good for Rod."

"No one's prettier than you," said Hermione without thinking. The moment the words came out she felt a jolt of confusion, when had she decided that? But she knew that she believed it. Bellatrix, with her cascade of black curls and piercing grey eyes, was the loveliest witch Hermione had ever seen.

Bellatrix hummed, "Hmm. Well, you've never seen Cynthia Rowle."

"I don't need to," Hermione said loyally.

Bellatrix pulled back to search Hermione's eyes. "I guess two good things came of it," she said softly.

"What?"

"I got to meet you," said Bellatrix. Her expression softened.

Tension snapped between them, and Hermione felt her throat grow heavy with it. Bellatrix looked so open and vulnerable, staring up at her through dark lashes like that. She reached her free hand out, and gently pushed a loose curl back. "Rodolphus is an idiot," she breathed.

Bellatrix smirked, "Good, I'm glad to be rid of him."

Hermione swallowed, keenly aware that her fingers still touched the impossibly soft curls. "I'm glad you're rid of him," she babbled, "He's an idiot. And he doesn't age well. You age much better than he does, he looks like a shrivelled up bezoar by the time he's-"

"Hermione," Bellatrix arched a brow, "Let's not talk about Rodolphus anymore."

"Oh. Ok," Hermione said

Bellatrix reached up and traced cool fingers over Hermione's jaw bone. "You really think I'm the prettiest witch?"

"Yes," Hermione said carefully. "But you're also so much more than that, Bellatrix. You could do anything you want to, and I promise that I'll help you. I'll do anything I can to make sure you have a good future this time."

"Anything?" Bellatrix asked. It sounded like a dare.

Hermione nodded, swallowing again.

Bellatrix leaned up, and pressed her forehead to Hermione's, "Then kiss me."

Hermione leaned forward, and pressed her lips gently to Bellatrix's. Bellatrix's lips were soft and inviting. Tension exploded in her chest, and she felt as if her skin was waking up for the first time. Bellatrix snaked her arms around Hermione's back, sighing into the kiss, and the noise made something in the pit of Hermione's stomach uncurl. Her heart stuttered.

It wasn't Hermione's first kiss, but when she pulled away she blushed deeper than she had with Viktor.

"Well," said Oberon in shock, "I didn't see that coming."

Lailah's smug voice answered him, "I did."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think!


	10. Chapter 10

Hermione could not stop thinking about Bellatrix. The warmth of her, the softness of her mouth, the way her grey eyes sparkled the night before when they finally pulled away.

Oberon nipped her ankle, and Hermione squeaked and dropped the feather duster she had been holding on the ground. "What was that for?" She asked, glaring down at him as she checked her ankle for blood. The skin was unmarked.

Oberon picked up the feather duster in his teeth and held it out to her, his tail waving. When she'd taken it, he said, "You have a job to do. You can't moon over Bellatrix all day."

Hermione glowered at him, "I'm not _mooning_ ," she said.

"You've been sighing like a princess in a Disney film," he told her, his gaze bright. "And Junior suspects something."

Indeed, Junior had been giving her a knowing smile all morning. His daemon flew onto the newsboy cap he wore, and fluttered her wings as she whispered to him. He kept chuckling.

Hermione shrugged, "So what? It's not a crime to be in a good mood."

Oberon shook out his fur, "Of course not," he said, "But have you thought about the repercussions if her family finds out? I doubt a muggleborn-"

"They think I'm a halfblood," Hermione reminded him.

"A penniless halfblood is hardly going to help Bellatrix climb the social ladder," Oberon pointed out. He jumped up onto a shelf that was closer to her eye level. "You need to be careful."

"You're overreacting," Hermione said. "No one's going to think my good mood has anything to do with Bella."

"Oh, _Bella_ is it?" Oberon asked. His tone was still light.

"No one comes to Wilton's," Hermione said, "No one will ever see me."

The bell above the door rang, and Hera let out an indignant hoot.

"I'll be right with you!" Hermione called, and Oberon looked over her shoulder and groaned.

Hermione twisted to look, and saw Cygnus Black standing among the displays at the front of the store.

"He'll suspect!" Oberon moaned.

Hermione rolled her eyes, had she been this dramatic in her other life? She hoped not. "He won't suspect as long as we act normal," she hissed. Quickly she pasted on a smile and approached Cygnus.

Berenice peered at the shelves, her keen eyes searching the titles as Cygnus nodded to Hermione. "Miss Granger! We hoped you'd be here."

"Hello Mr. Black," Hermione greeted him, "How can I help you?"

"We were hoping to have a look at your books," He said, "Bellatrix speaks so highly of Wilton's, and Narcissa begged me to collect a few more books-" He made a show of grimacing, "for her time at Hogwarts."

As if on cue, the door flung open and Narcissa and Luz entered, her face shining. "Oh Papa, you beat me here!"

Junior perked up from behind the till, "Good morning!"

The mention of Hogwarts had Hermione reeling. She hadn't realized how close it was to September, but as she mentally calculated the dates she realized she'd only have two more sessions with Narcissa before she and Andromeda returned to school.

"Hermione!" Narcissa leapt forward and grabbed Hermione by the hand, "Help me pick out some books! Flourish and Blotts only had boring ones." She made a face, and Luz made a disgusted noise in agreement.

Junior eased himself off his stool, and called out, "Mr. Black, perhaps I could interest you in some of our rarer books?"

Hermione wanted to find out what books Cygnus would be interested in, but she didn't want to raise suspicions or offend Narcissa. So she took Narcissa through the store, and pulled out the most gruesome texts she could find. A history of wizarding serial killers, a guide to the most gruesome poisons, curses, and hexes, several books on witch hunts. Hermione hesitated over _A Ghastly Guide_ , but Narcissa spotted the skull on the cover and immediately began pouring over the introduction.

Hermione took the opportunity to slide closer to the front counter, where Junior was unwrapping some of their most precious books from their protective cloths. "We have Gudeman's whole set," Junior said, a delighted twinkle in his eye as he slid a pair of soft gloves on and opened the book for Cygnus.

Cygnus eyed the books appreciatively, "The original printing?"

"The very same," nodded Junior.

Hermione was almost disappointed. Gudeman wrote primarily about fungi and flora. Not the dark arts.

Cygnus inspected the books, and eventually offered a sum that made Hermione's eyebrows shoot up. It was more than her parents made in a year, even with a popular dentist practice.

Junior gamely agreed, and began re-wrapping the books. "I'm sorry to see them go," he admitted, "But I'm grateful they'll be going to a home that respects them."

Cygnus smiled, "I've been looking for this set for years," he said. Then, as Narcissa drew alongside him, he caught the title of _A Ghastly Guide_ and frowned. "Perhaps something more appropriate for school, my pet?"

Narcissa pouted, "This _is_ appropriate," she said. "There's plenty about History in them, and herbology, and potions!"

Cygnus winced, and said to Junior, "A few months ago she was interested in fairy tales. And now all of Hogwarts is going to think I'm raising the next Grindelwald."

Hermione was surprised by his candidness, but Junior merely chuckled. "Children are often drawn to the macabre," he said. "My own daughter was at that age. You're lucky it's that and not boys."

Cygnus offered a genuine smile, "I'd like to hold off on that for a while yet," he said. "Cissy is our youngest, and I'm not keen on her growing up just yet."

Narcissa made a face behind his back, but set her stack of books on the counter for Junior to ring up. Luz shook his feathers and snapped at Berenice.

"This was a good find," Cygnus said as he picked up his parcels. "I'll have to return soon." He nodded to Hermione, "Miss Granger, I'll see you next Tuesday."

Hermione smiled, and waved to Narcissa.

As Cygnus opened the door, he nearly ran into Bellatrix. The two stared at each other for a moment, and then Cygnus patted Bellatrix on the shoulder and left with Narcissa.

Bellatrix beamed at Hermione, and Lailah bounded over to press her nose to Oberon's.

"Papa came then?" Bellatrix asked, looking back at the door as if Cygnus would come bounding in again. "He's been threatening to for ages."

"I think he's satisfied," said Hermione, thinking of the enormous sum Cygnus had paid for the Gudeman set. "I didn't realize he was so interested in plants."

Bellatrix snorted, "We have a greenhouse at our manor," she said, then her eyes sparkled. "Speaking of which, I have news. Are you on lunch?"

Hermione checked in with Junior, who pleasantly told her to go early. Then she and Bellatrix walked to their usual sandwich shop.

Neely's was busier than usual. With students and their parents (and daemons) eating noisily as they checked lists and rummaged through bags.

Lailah scowled at an iguana daemon that stepped on her tail, and said, "I can't wait till everyone's back at Hogwarts."

They placed their orders, and found a booth (their usual table was taken by a pair of wizards who were building a tower out of crisps).

"So?" Hermione asked once they were seated. She could not keep the grin from her face as she looked at Bellatrix, and the other girl beamed back.

"Papa and Mother are returning to the Manor once the girls go back to school," Bellatrix said.

"Oh," Hermione wilted a bit. She hadn't thought that the family might leave London.

"And," Bellatrix gave a little wiggle, and Lailah let out a yip of excitement, "They're letting me stay at the townhouse!"

Hermione relaxed, and put her hand on Bellatrix's, "Oh, Bella! That's great news!"

"Papa told me this morning. He says I have a good routine here, and he would hate for me to ruin all my progress, and Mother agreed and said that London is good for me." Her eyes sparkled, "They know that _you're_ good for me, but they don't know why."

Hermione felt her cheeks warm, but she grinned wider in response.

Lailah ducked under the table, and emerged beside Oberon. She pressed close to him, and Hermione felt a thrill of contentment.

"I'll have to find something to do," Bellatrix said easily, as if she hadn't noticed that Lailah was wrapped around Hermione's daemon. "If there is going to be a war, I want to be involved. And not-" she made a face, "-not on the wrong side."

"We'll find something to do," Hermione assured her, though she herself had no idea how they could help. She and Bellatrix had composed a letter to Dumbledore detailing what they knew of the emerging Death Eaters in Rodolphus' circles, and received only a mild thank you in reply. Bellatrix had added a list of the men in her father's club who were "dabblers" in the dark arts, but she was certain that it was not new information.

"Dumbledore isn't the only good man," Bellatrix said, as if she could read Hermione's thoughts.

Hermione sighed. "I know, but I don't know who else to turn to. All the books were written about Dumbledore being Voldemort's biggest opponent. No one else is remembered by name. The way it's written, you would think the wizarding world just bowed before Voldemort and let him ruin the entire country!"

"Well, history isn't going to be written the same way," Bellatrix said. She stood to collect their sandwiches as the order was called out, and Lailah reluctantly jumped down to follow her.

"She's right," Oberon said, "history _isn't_ going to be the same. We have to think about it as if it's happening for the first time."

Hermione frowned. "What's the good of being from the future if we can't use our knowledge to help out?"

"We _have_ used our knowledge," Oberon said. "But we can't rely on it. Things are already different than in our world. Bellatrix is proof of that."

Hermione knew he was right, and it made her feel uneasy. She had felt a few steps ahead, and now she felt as uncertain as she had in her own time. At least then she had been surrounded by friends and allies.

Bellatrix returned, and Lailah jumped back beside Oberon.

"Don't worry," Bellatrix said, laying Oberon's cup of stew in front of him, "We'll figure something out. We have plenty of time."

Hermione nodded, and was so lost in her thoughts that she almost missed Bellatrix's next words.

"You don't regret the kiss, do you?"

It took a moment for the words to register in Hermione's mind, but Bellatrix seemed to take her silence as an answer.

"It's alright if you do, we can still be friends. I hope you'll still want to be friends. All my other friends weren't really _friends_ , and I've really enjoyed these last few weeks-"

"Bella," Hermione said, frowning, "I don't regret the kiss at all!"

Bellatrix's shoulders eased, and the furrow between her brows smoothed. "Really?"

Hermione nodded, "It was- It was a good kiss," she said, blushing hard.

Now Bellatrix looked smug. "It was, wasn't it?"

Lailah snorted. Oberon looked embarrassed, but seemed pleased as Lailah began washing his ear.

"I think we should pursue whatever it is between us then," said Bellatrix. "We're clearly compatible."

"You make it sound like a business agreement." Hermione said, unable to hide her smile.

"That's what all relationships are," said Bellatrix, then she looked unsure, "don't you think we're compatible?"

"Yes," said Hermione, meaning it. It had been a very good kiss. "But you just ended things with Rodolphus, don't you want a little time-"

"We were never compatible with Rodolphus anyway," said Lailah. "We were practically forced together by our parents."

Bellatrix nodded.

Hermione still hesitated. There was so much that she was still uncertain about in her new life, but being around Bellatrix always made her feel more settled. It didn't hurt that she was attracted to Bellatrix as well. There was the upcoming war to consider, however. If she got too attached to Bellatrix, maybe it would complicate things…

Oberon put his paw on her arm, and she looked down into his warm amber eyes. Slowly, he nodded.

She remembered their earlier conversation about how this might be their chance for normalcy. She had certainly always wanted a partner- true, she had always thought that the partner would be male, but perhaps that's just because she had never met the right girl. Hermione nodded back, and looked up into Bellatrix's sparkling eyes.

"Alright then," she said, "let's pursue it."

Bellatrix took a bite of her sandwich, and looked immensely pleased. "I'll send over the contract in the morning," she said.

Hermione gaped at her, "There's a contract?"

Bellatrix smirked, "Of course not." Then, she looked around to make sure no one was watching them, and leaned forward to peck Hermione on the lips.

Hermione squeaked. "What was that for?"

"Well," said Bellatrix, sliding back into her seat, "If you're my girlfriend I can kiss you whenever I want."

Hermione grinned, and felt her doubts slip away. "Is that in the contract?"

Bellatrix's smile widened. "Yep."

"Then I like it," said Hermione. Her stomach fluttered at the word _girlfriend_ , and she couldn't deny the thrill it gave her.

Beside her, Lailah prodded the cup of soup closer to Oberon and said, "Eat up, your lunch is almost over."

Bellatrix and Lailah walked them back to Wilton's, and Hermione felt as if she were made of air when she returned to work.

"Someone's here for you," said Junior when Hermione and Oberon reentered the shop. "He's in the back room."

Hermione gave him a quizzical look, "Who?"

Junior shrugged, "Said he knew you when you were kids."

Oberon's fur spiked up, and Hermione leaned down to pick him up. "Thank you," she said to Junior.

"Do you think it's one of the Order?" Oberon whispered. "Sent by Dumbledore?"

Hermione swallowed heavily, "I don't know." She carried him to the back door, and pulled her wand out with her free hand. After a deep breath, she entered the back room.

A tall man sat stroking Hera with a forefinger. He turned to look at her as she entered, and his face lit up.

"Hello Hermione."

Hermione felt as if the floor had fallen out from underneath her. It was Oberon who spoke.

"Harry?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your comments! They keep me going! Please let me know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think!


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